Strange Bedfellows
by dragonmactir
Summary: A practical-minded elf takes command of the Wardens post-Ostagar, and throws canon into turmoil. Eventual romance; Elilia Cousland doesn't exist.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **Takes place during the events of _Dragon Age: Origins_, from the background of a female City Elf pc. Eventual pairing Warden/Loghain. May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter One: Ostagar**

"Ho there, Duncan!"

"King Cailan!" The old Warden was clearly surprised. "I didn't expect - "

"A royal welcome?" The handsome, blond-haired human in shining golden armor stepped forward and clasped Duncan's hand. "I had heard you'd found a promising new recruit. Is this she?"

"It is, Your Majesty. Allow me to present - "

"There's no need to be so formal, Duncan. We shall be shedding blood together, after all." The king turned his attention to the pretty, dark-haired elven woman at Duncan's side. "Ho there, friend. Might I know your name?"

The girl curtseyed shyly. "Loghaina Tabris, Your Majesty."

"Loghaina?" The King began to laugh, so hard it seemed he might have some sort of attack. Loghaina nettled. "I've never met a Lady Loghain before. Your parents did you a disservice, I think. You're far too pretty to bear Loghain's namesake."

"My mother served with him during the Rebellion, as one of his Night Elves, Your Majesty," Loghaina said. "She said he was an honorable man."

"Oh yes, very honorable. But also very ugly," the King said, with a twinkling smile. "In any event, I welcome you to Ostagar. We need all the Wardens we can get, and they will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

"You're too kind, Your Majesty," Loghaina said, though privately she wondered about that. He seemed a trifle foolish, and calling a man ugly behind his back seemed awfully mean-spirited, even if it wasn't intended that way.

"I bring word, Your Majesty, from the Arl of Redcliffe. He stands ready to send men to your aid at once," Duncan said.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory," the King said. "We've already won three battles against the darkspawn and there's no reason to assume tomorrow will be any different."

"I didn't realize things were going so well," Loghaina said. She directed the comment at Duncan, but it was the King who responded.

"I'm not even sure this is a real _Blight. _There's plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an Archdemon."

"Disappointed, Your Majesty?" Duncan said. He sounded rather weary. Already, Loghaina couldn't blame him.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales," the King said. "A king riding into battle with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god. But this will have to do. I hate to cut this short, but I really should be going before Loghain sends out a search party. He awaits eagerly to bore me with his strategies," the King said, winked at Loghaina, and departed with his guards back toward the ruin that was the remains of the fortress of Ostagar.

"What the King said is true. There have already been several battles with the darkspawn," Duncan said.

"He didn't seem to take the Blight very seriously."

"True. We Grey Wardens know that there is an Archdemon behind this, but we cannot ask the king to move solely on our feeling."

"I suppose we should move quickly, then."

"Indeed. I will make preparations for the ritual of Joining at once. We have no time to lose," Duncan said.

"I hope there'll be time for a hot meal, first?" Loghaina said.

Duncan chuckled. "That would be welcome. Feel free to explore the camp as you wish, and when you are comfortable seek out a Warden named Alistair and tell him it is time to summon the other recruits. You will find him on the north side of camp."

"Will do," she said, and let Duncan walk away before she began her explorations. There really wasn't much to see: human soldiers, busy elven messengers and servants, Ash Warriors with their decorated hounds. A few grand pavilion tents, evidently for the use of important people. Kennels for mabari. A quartermaster who mistook her for a servant, and then promised to sell her army equipment if she needed it, and who also had a few black market goods as well. She didn't have the coin for shopping.

Outside the kennels a man stopped her. "Are you one of the new Grey Wardens?" he asked. "I wonder if you might help me."

"What do you need?" she asked, a bit doubtfully. Humans needing "help" from elven girls didn't generally have good deeds in mind.

"I've got a mabari here whose master died in the last battle. The hound himself is sick from the darkspawn blood. I have medicine that can treat him but if he bites me I'll get sick, too. The worst you have to worry about is a little chewing."

"O…kay," she said slowly. Frankly that seemed like a lot to worry about. Mabari were awfully big.

"Just go in and see if he'll let you put a muzzle on him. Mabari are smart: it's likely he'll know you're trying to help him," the kennel master said.

"All right. I'll try," she said, and took the muzzle from him. She entered the kennel carefully. The dog, whose brownish-grey coat put her in mind of her mother's homemade gravy, bristled at her, but then it seemed to back down from its aggressive stance. It whined plaintively. Moving slowly and carefully, she fitted the muzzle over the dog's snout. It didn't attack.

"Wonderful. Now I can treat the poor devil properly," the kennel master said. "Come to think of it, will you be going into the Wilds any time soon?"

"Ah…I've no idea. I suppose it's possible," she said.

"There's a certain flower that grows in these parts. White with a red center. I can use it to make a medicine that could help him. If you do go into the Wilds, could you keep an eye out for me?"

"I suppose so."

"Thank you. Maker's blessings be upon you, Warden."

She headed back in the direction of the great pavilions, meaning only to pass by on her way up the ramp to another part of the camp, but as she passed in front of the flap of the orange and green one it opened, and a giant of a man ran right into her. She went sprawling on her backside in the dirt.

"_Ouch."_

The man towered over her. "I beg your pardon, I didn't see you," he said. He offered her a hand up. She stared at it, in its silverite gauntlet, for a long moment before gingerly accepting it.

He pulled her to her feet easily. "Ah, you're one of the new Grey Wardens, aren't you? Cailan couldn't get over his _excitement_ at having met you."

"Yes, Ser. I am Loghaina Tabris, from Denerim."

"Loghaina?" The man's severe mouth curved in a slight smile. "Unusual name."

She blushed. Everyone always had to bring up the name. "I was named for the Hero of the River Dane, Ser. My mother served in his Night Elves."

He leaned back and looked her over from head to food. "Adaia Imura. You must have gotten your father's hair, but you've your mother's eyes. How is she?"

Loghaina was boggled. "I'm afraid she's dead, Ser. You…you knew her?"

"Of course. She was one of _my_ Night Elves. I'm sorry to hear that she's gone. She was a fine soldier. I expect she'd be proud of you, following in her footsteps more or less."

"_Your_…Andraste's grace! You're Loghain Mac Tir! Your Lordship, I'm sorry, I had no idea," she babbled.

"Clearly. It's nothing to get all excited about, Girl. Calm yourself. You're a Warden, remember?"

"I'm not a Warden yet, Ser," she said.

"You will be. You're pretty for a Warden, but don't let anybody tell you you don't belong. The first Warden Maric brought back to Ferelden was a woman. Never saw a fiercer warrior. Did you know it was King Maric, Cailan's father, who brought your order back to Ferelden?"

"No, I didn't know."

"Maric respected the Wardens. They have an honored place in the hearts of our people. But Maric, unlike Cailan, would have known it takes more than legends to win a battle. That's not an argument I'll repeat here. Now, I really should be getting on. Pray that our King proves amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort."

"And if he doesn't?" she asked. She considered it a valid question. The King she'd met hadn't seemed amenable to any sort of wisdom.

"Then simply pray. It was good to have met you, Daughter of Adaia."

He walked away, and she watched him go. He was not handsome, exactly, not by her definition, but he was far from "ugly." Striking. Strong. He certainly made for an odd nobleman. He'd treated her almost like an equal, something not even a human _peasant_ was likely to do. She wondered, half-idly, whether her mother hadn't been a little bit in love with him, at a distance. She wondered, since he remembered so much about her eyes, whether the feeling hadn't been mutual.

She gave up her exploring, and went to look for this "Alistair." She found him speaking in a jocular manner to a very irritated mage, who eventually stalked off. Alistair, a handsome fellow with short blond hair and hazel-green eyes, turned to look at her. He had the same sort of twinkling smile as the king.

"You know, there's one good thing about the Blight. It's the way it brings people _together,"_ he said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, never mind. Were you looking for me?"

"If you're Alistair, yes."

"I am Alistair. And that means _you _must be the new recruit Duncan said he was bringing."

"I am. Loghaina Tabris."

"Loghaina…" And yet another fool went off in a fit of laughter. Loghaina was quite sick of it.

"I didn't laugh at _your_ name," she said, severely.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Truly. It's just…you don't look like a Loghain…_a."_

He controlled himself with difficulty. "In any event, now you're here it's time to proceed with the Joining. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Otherwise, lead on."

"I do have a question, if I may. This coming battle: do you think it will go well?"

He sighed, with a bit of a chuckle in it. "King Cailan certainly does, but I'm not so sure. There've been more and more darkspawn every time the army battles them. By now they outnumber us. But I'll tell you this: it's _Teyrn Loghain _we should look to to win it. I suppose I should be grateful that King Cailan favors us Wardens…but I know who's keeping the lid on the pot."

"All right, I guess that tells me what I needed to know. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Ishal**

"Loghain had better be ready to charge. The King is depending on us!"

"Looking for someone else to blame already, Alistair?" Loghaina said.

"What? No!"

"We've already been fighting our way up through this tower for the better part of an hour," she said. "If the signal comes too late to save the King it _won't_ be Teyrn Loghain's fault."

"I didn't say it would be," Alistair said.

"You implied it. Frankly, I don't think Lord Loghain trusts us Grey Wardens much. If I were in his shoes and the signal were delayed as long as this, I might expect a trap. He may have charged already. Or retreated."

Alistair smashed a genlock to the floor with his shield. "He wouldn't. Would he?"

Loghaina hamstringed a hurlock. "I don't know. I don't know the man. I just know what I heard at that meeting, and it didn't bode well for relations between the Teyrn and we Wardens."

"He doesn't seem to like us as much as Cailan does, that's the truth," Alistair said, doubtfully, "but he couldn't think we're…what? Traitors?"

"Cailan wanted to let Chevaliers into the country as Warden support troops," Loghaina said. "Given what we went through the last time there were Chevaliers in Ferelden, that may be exactly what he thinks."

"We've got to hurry, then," Alistair said. "Maybe it's not too late yet."

They continued to fight their way through the tower of Ishal, through the hordes of darkspawn that had swarmed up through the floors. Loghaina wondered why the Grey Wardens hadn't checked Ishal for potential Deep Roads entrances; everyone in the camp had known the place was dwarf-built. Only the Grey Wardens would have been able to tell whether the darkspawn were tunneling up through the floors or not. It seemed like Duncan might not be the tactician Teyrn Loghain was said to be, or maybe he didn't have a head for strategy at all. Surely, if he had the sense to lead, he would have insisted upon Wardens searching the tower. She did not like to think badly of the man who'd saved her life, but she couldn't help but wonder how he came to be Warden Commander. Perhaps the job just went to the oldest living Warden, fit for the position or not.

Or maybe she was just doing what Alistair had been doing, and was looking for someone other than herself to blame for how abysmally bad things were going.

After another half an hour's hard fighting they reached the top floor. There they found an ogre, bloody from eating the tower guards. Loghaina's feet skidded to a halt on the marble flooring.

"Shit," she said. "There's no time to waste. You, Mage, whatever your name is - light the signal. We'll keep the monster occupied."

"Oh, is that all we have to do?" Alistair said. "I was afraid it would be something difficult."

Loghaina rushed forward, daggers out, and despite his groaning Alistair followed her charge. So too did the tower guard who'd followed them, while the mage scurried past to light the signal fire with a spell. It was a difficult battle, but a final great leap from Alistair brought the ogre down with his longsword embedded in its skull.

"Good work," Loghaina said, but even as the words left her lips, darkspawn spilled through the door and a hail of arrows struck her down.

* * *

"Ah, your eyes open. Mother will be pleased."

Loghaina remembered the voice. She'd met the owner in the Wilds, when she'd gone to collect the Grey Warden treaties.

"You're…Morrigan, aren't you? Where am I?" she asked.

"You remember me. How flattering. As to your question, you are in the home of myself and my mother. She saved you from the tower, though 'twas a near thing. Do you remember that?"

"I remember nothing after being struck down. How in the Maker's holy name did _your mother _save me from Ishal?"

"She turned herself into a dragon and scooped you up in her talons," Morrigan said. She helped Loghaina sit up. "It's probably for the best that you do not remember. She is waiting for you outside, along with your dim-witted friend."

"Dim-witted…you mean Alistair?"

"Yes, the suspicious-minded blond fellow. You should go, now that you're well. Patience is not Mother's strong suit."

"Wait - what happened to the army? The King?"

"They were massacred. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Your friend isn't taking it very well."

"I was afraid of that. Damn it. Damn it all. We were too late. Now I wonder, does the Teyrn think we were late on _purpose?"_

"A good question. Perhaps you should ask him that when next you see him."

"Yes, I'll bring it up next time we take tea together."

"Well, your ability to respond to sarcasm has taken no damage," Morrigan said. "Perhaps your good sense will not abandon you, either. Go and speak to my mother."

"Very well. Thank you, Morrigan, for helping me."

Morrigan responded to that simple courtesy strangely. She seemed unsure of how to accept it. "You are welcome, but it was Mother, not I, who helped you. I am no healer."

Loghaina put on her armor. "I will go speak to her now."

Morrigan now seemed to be on comfortable footing again. She smiled in a way that suggested she did not envy Loghaina having to go outside and speak to "Mother." "I will stay and make something to eat."

Outside the little hut, Alistair greeted her with disbelief. "You…I thought you were dead."

"I'm fine. I appreciate your concern."

"Did you hear what happened? You were right. Teyrn Loghain called a retreat. He left the King to die. He left…Duncan…to die."

"If he hadn't, Ferelden might now be without a standing army. We don't know."

"_Neither did he," _he said.

"Is that a risk Ferelden could afford? Judging by the number of darkspawn we met in Ishal, the field was overrun. Who would protect the nation if the army were overwhelmed completely? He's a general. He made a tactical call. Whether he was right or wrong is really moot. We can second-guess him all we wish but we'll never know how disastrous it might have been had he charged regardless."

"Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not going to make him my scapegoat for what went wrong. We missed the signal. It wasn't our fault, but we missed it. We don't own the blame, but we can't blame others. It is what it is."

"True enough," the old woman said, "but I wonder if you would be quite so forgiving had you not _liked _the man when you met him."

"I'm upset that we failed. I'm upset that he didn't call the charge. I'm upset that our comrades and our King died. But we have to move on. The darkspawn still must be dealt with or we'll _all _perish. But I did like him, that's true. He treated me like a person, and he remembered my mother. I don't think he's our enemy, but I'm afraid that he might think _we're_ his. We can't afford to have him working against us."

"What can _we _do?" Alistair asked.

"The darkspawn are our priority, and the army has been decimated. I've still got those treaties. I say we put them to use."

"You think it will be that easy?" he asked.

"I think it will be very difficult. But we have to do it. Barring miracles, we're the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden."

"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" the old woman said.

Alistair still seemed doubtful, but Loghaina was firm. "Yes. Thank you for everything you've done for us."

"There is one more help I can offer you."

Morrigan came out of the hut. "The stew is bubbling, Mother. Will we be having two guests for dinner or none?"

"The Wardens will be leaving, girl. And you will be going with them."

"Such a shame - _what?!"_

"You heard me, girl. Last I checked, you had ears."

"Thank you for the offer, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us - " Loghaina started.

"Her magic will be useful to you. What's more, she can help you to get through the Wilds undetected. I would hate to save your life only to have you die on my doorstep."

"Mother, I'm not ready. Not like this," Morrigan said.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds now for years. Here is your chance."

"I…understand," Morrigan said.

"And you, Wardens. Do you understand that I am entrusting you with what I hold dearest in life?" the old woman said.

"I understand," Loghaina said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Lothering**

Deep barking heralded the arrival of a gravy-colored mabari hound, who raced up the road toward them with his stumpy tail wagging. Hot on his trail was a group of hurlocks. Loghaina roared and charged, and her daggers flashed bright glints in the afternoon sun. The dog turned to fight alongside her, and his sharp teeth and powerful jaws made short work of any darkspawn they latched onto.

Loghaina moved to strike a dagger into a hurlock that seemed to be acting as a commander of sorts, only to have it turn into a block of ice in front of her. "Got it!" Morrigan shouted. Alistair smashed it with his shield and it broke into a thousand darkspawn pieces. Loghaina shrugged and moved on to other targets. Between the four of them, they quickly dealt with the small group.

When the last hurlock was felled Loghaina knelt before the dog and scratched its ears. "You're the one I helped back at Ostagar, aren't you, boy?" she said. The dog barked happily.

"I bet he's been looking for you. He's _chosen _you," Alistair said. "Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting."

"Does this mean we're going to have this mangy mutt with us the rest of the way?" Morrigan said.

"He's not mangy," Alistair crooned. "He's cute and cuddly."

"I never thought I'd have a dog…a _mabari_, no less! Elves don't keep mabari. If we have any pet at all its usually a stray cat or a mangy rat terrier mutt. And then you're lucky if you can keep the other elves from eating it. I think I'll call him…Gravy."

"Ha! That's not a good name to give him if you don't want him to be eaten," Alistair said. "It's making _me _hungry."

"No one's eating _this_ dog. Although I don't doubt him capable of eating some_body_. Let's go. Lothering's still some miles away, isn't it?"

They continued on, and as the sun crept toward the western horizon they found the Imperial Highway. From there it was but a short stroll to the outskirts of the little village Morrigan had suggested for supplies and information. A small band of men came forward to greet them.

"At attention, gentlemen, we have travelers. Led by an _elf, _of all things. A _lady _elf, and pretty, too," the gang leader said.

There were knowing chuckles. Loghaina's hackles went up. She drew her daggers.

"Now now, is that any way to greet a fellow? Let's be _polite, _shall we?" the gang leader said. "A mere ten silvers guarantees you safe passage into the village. Quite the bargain, wouldn't you say?"

"_Safe passage? _The only thing standing in my way is _you."_

"Highwaymen, looking to rob us," Alistair said. An unnecessary statement since Loghaina had already figured that out for herself.

"They are fools to get in our way. I say we teach them a lesson," Morrigan said.

"I agree," Loghaina said, and attacked.

Her style was swiftness and skill, as her mother had taught her. Dash in, slash the victim, dash out, back and forth until they fall or call for mercy. With her deadly new friends there was little difficulty in defeating this clumsy band of bandits. With Gravy's fangs sunk into his leg, the bandit leader pleaded for his life.

"Gravy, drop him," Loghaina commanded. The bright-witted dog complied immediately and released the bandit's leg. "Hand over everything you've stolen."

"Here. Take it. Take it! Just over a hundred silvers. Now please, let me go!"

"I'm turning you in to the authorities."

"But there aren't any! Just the templars, and they'll hang me!"

"They'll do what they must."

"I'm not going down without a fight!" the gang leader shouted, and lashed out. Loghaina dropped him with a swift blow to the throat.

"Senseless waste of life," Loghaina said, and jingled the silvers in her hand. "Oh well. At least we've a little money for outfitting, now."

"Er, not to be _that guy," _Alistair said, "but that money was stolen from innocent people seeking shelter here in Lothering. Are you really going to keep it?"

"I seek to protect these people from what they're seeking shelter against," Loghaina said, "and I've barely a copper to my name. If it bothers you, consider it payment for taking out a group of bandits. No one else will be attacked."

"Preeminently practical," Morrigan said. "We're going to get along well, I can tell. And I'm not even being sarcastic, for a change."

They walked down the off-ramp to the village. "There it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting," Alistair said. He might have been sarcastic, but if not then Loghaina did not agree. She had heard of "small-town charm," but Lothering lacked it, possibly due to the sea of refugees camped on the outskirts. The place reeked of desperation.

They headed into the village, where a templar warned them they would find no safe shelter there. There were wagons everywhere - some coming in from the outlying farms, others heading out from the village itself. Everyone looked panicked to some degree, from mildly spooked to hyperventilating. A child stood in the middle of the bridge over the little millstream and called for his mother. A man with the look of a Chasind wilder stood before the doors of the Chantry and shouted imprecations of doom at passersby.

"It's just a guess, but I'm thinking the people of Lothering already know about the approaching darkspawn horde," Alistair said in his whimsical way.

"Good. Saves us from having to get them moving," Loghaina said. "Let's find the local watering hole and see what the scuttlebutt is."

They found the tavern easily enough, just across the bridge. But before they could ask the bartender for the good word, a soldier in steel splintmail stood up.

"Well, lookee here, boys. Seems we've been blessed. Didn't we spend all morning asking about an elf of this very description?"

Other soldiers stood up as well. "Everyone said they hadn't seen 'er," one of them said.

"It seems we were lied to," the soldier-in-charge said.

A woman in the robes of a Chantry sister walked up from the back, where she'd been listening to the bards play. "Now gentlemen, I'm sure there's no need for unpleasantness," she said. She had an accent Loghaina couldn't place. "These poor people are just seeking shelter, like all the others."

"_They're _Grey Wardens. The Teyrn gave us orders, and we aim to carry 'em out," the soldier said. "No traitors are going to walk free while we're around."

"Well, that answers that question," Loghaina said. She drew her daggers. "If you really insist on a fight, bring it on."

The soldiers brought it. Strangely enough, the Chantry sister pitched in to help Loghaina's party out in the fight. She was a good fighter, and a great help despite the fact she carried only a small dagger. The soldiers weren't invested in their charge to the death, and soon enough the commander held up his hands in surrender.

"All right, please, stop," he said.

"Good. They've learned their lesson, and we can all go on now," the sister said.

"You work for Teyrn Loghain?" Loghaina said. "Take a message to him. We're not his enemies. You got that?"

"G-got it." The soldiers scarpered.

"I am glad that you found it in your hearts to show those men mercy," the sister said. "I am Leliana, lay sister of the Lothering Chantry. I heard what they said. You are a Grey Warden? I am surprised that you are an elf, but elves must want the Blight defeated as badly as the rest of us. You will need all the help you can get, yes? I will come with you, if you'll have me."

"I do need help, and you are an excellent fighter," Loghaina said, slowly, "but why so eager to come along? You know what I must do is dangerous. And often not what you might call _pious."_

"That is so, you will be engaging in some nasty business. But what you do - what you are _meant_ to do - is the Maker's work. I would help that. Besides. The Maker told me to."

Loghaina's eyes got wide. "Right. Backing away…slowly."

Leliana blushed. "I know that sounds insane, but it is true. I had a vision."

"Well, I don't know anything about visions, but I know another blade would come in handy. Are you sure you can deal with it? Evidently there are people out to get us, you realize, quite apart from the darkspawn we attract. Some of them might have to be killed."

"I understand. You will not regret this, I swear to you."

"Evidently your head was cracked worse than Mother thought," Morrigan said.

"Let's get outfitted and get out of here," Loghaina said. "We'll need more coin, especially now. Let's check the Chanters' board and see if there's any work to be had here."

As Alistair pointed out, it took some dedication for the Chanters to still be operating their board under these circumstances, but up and running it was. They signed up to take care of bandits and wild, Blight-crazed animals, and headed out of the village to attend to the tasks. On the way, they came upon a horned giant in a cage too small for him.

"The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family," Leliana said. "Still, to be locked up and left to the darkspawn…no one deserves that."

"Qunari are supposed to be legendary warriors," Alistair said. "If you're really serious about looking for help, you might try asking _him."_

Loghaina stepped up to the cage. "Are you a murderer, or a soldier?" she asked.

"Both," the Qunari said. "I am not here for your amusement, elf. Leave me in peace."

"I am seeking skilled help to aid me in defeating the Blight," she said.

"The Blight. Are you a Grey Warden?"

"Yes."

"My people have heard stories of the Grey Wardens. Peerless strategists and warriors of exceptional skill. Well, I suppose not every story can be true."

"What is your name?" Loghaina asked.

"I am Sten of the Beresaad."

"Loghaina Tabris. A pleasure to meet you."

"You mock me," Sten said. "Or you show manners I have not come to expect in these lands."

"If I let you out of this cage, would you help me?"

"Yes. It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here. The Priestess has the key. Perhaps you can convince her to let you have it if you tell her you seek aid against the Blight."

"All right. We'll be back."

Loghaina led her party out to finish up the tasks for the Chanters' board, and then trooped back into the village to collect, resupply, and see the Revered Mother. Just inside the Chantry, they were stopped politely by a tan-skinned fellow wearing the heavy plate of the templars.

"I am Ser Bryant, Knight-Commander of Lothering. And who might you be?" he asked.

"I am Loghaina, of the Grey Wardens," Loghaina said.

"I see." He seemed taken aback. "Did you know that Teyrn Loghain claimed the Grey Wardens responsible for King Cailan's death?"

"Did he, now?" Loghaina said.

"And set a bounty on any who survived. I do not think the Wardens would do such a thing, but it is perhaps best you not linger here, just in case."

The Knight-Commander bowed and turned away. Loghaina turned to her companions. "A bounty. That means trouble."

"What are we going to do?" Alistair said.

"Go to Denerim and face him directly," Morrigan said.

"Oh, right, yeah," Alistair said derisively. "Its not like he won't be looking for us, and its not like he doesn't have loads more experience and an army at his back."

"Morrigan is right," Loghaina said. "I'm going to Denerim. We need to put an end to this before it gets out of hand."

"You're going to go bouncing into the lair of the beast and throw yourself upon his mercy?" Alistair said. "Well, I'm not following you to the chopping block. No way."

"I didn't say you would. _You_ aren't going anywhere near Denerim. Stay back, in case things go badly for me. But give me a chance to get out in front of this before it bites us in the ass worse than it already has."

"You're really going to do this?" he said. He sighed. "Well, all right, if you really think it best. But I think you might be suicidal."

"Suicidal would be to let this build up to a head," Loghaina said. "I'll take care of it. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Denerim**

"My Lord Regent, there's a…a _woman_ here who wishes to see you."

The guard sounded nervous, but the guards always sounded nervous when they were forced to address him. He swallowed a gulp of ale. "I see no one at this hour, you know that."

"I know, my Lord, and I told her that, but…well…she said she was a…a _Grey Warden."_

He actually gaped for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Well, man, by all means, show the _Grey Warden _in."

He stood up and crossed to the hearth, chalice in hand. With his back to the door he could not know who walked in through it, and yet he knew who it would be. He'd sensed something about her in their brief meeting before the battle.

"Gutsy of you, to come to me like this," he said, when he heard her step. "What's the plan? Kill me? Plead with me?"

"The latter. I know you think the Grey Wardens are traitors, but I am here to tell you exactly what our plans are now that there's only two of us left. They don't include Orlais."

"Heartening. Have a seat."

"Thank you, I prefer to stand."

"Humph. As you will." He turned and crossed over to the drinks table. "Will you have something?"

"Thank you, no."

"Come now, it's not poisoned."

"I didn't think - thank you, I'll have whatever you're having."

He poured two small glasses of rich, amber liquid and gave her one. She took it, her eyes never leaving his face, and took a sip. She gagged, her throat on fire.

He laughed at her. "Second sip goes down better," he said, and gulped his glass at one blow.

"Thank you, I think I've had enough," she said, when he had her breath again. She put her glass down on the sideboard.

"Suit yourself. Now tell me. Just what do the _mighty Grey Wardens _have planned for Ferelden?" He leaned against the wall with his feet crossed at the ankle.

"We are in possession of treaties. Treaties that oblige the assistance of the Circle of Magi, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Dalish elves. We intend to put these treaties to use. We lost many men at Ostagar; the reinforcements from these treaties will make up for it. Ferelden will be able to defeat the Blight before it is too late to save her."

"I see. I should like to look at these treaties," Loghain said.

"I did not bring them with me. I left them with my fellow Grey Warden."

"Just in case you didn't return?" he asked. She nodded. "Sensible. But how then can I know you're telling me the truth about them?"

"My Lord, I do not know whether the Grey Wardens were part of some Orlesian conspiracy, or whether they simply did not care whether or not the Chevaliers they brought with them stayed in Ferelden permanently. But I, Ser, am Ferelden. _Alistair _is Ferelden. We have no desire to bring harm to this country. We do not trust the Orlesians any more than you do. But Ferelden needs allies to aid it now. We cannot stand alone."

"I'm not sure I agree with that," he said. "Ferelden does very well on its own."

"Not against the darkspawn," Loghaina said. "The longer they besiege this land, the more likely it is she will never recover. We could be like the Anderfels, tainted so badly that nothing will grow. We must get in front of this as soon as possible, so we can save everything that can be saved."

"So you suggest bringing in these…carefully not Orlesian…_foreigners_ to solve our problems for us."

"The Circle mages are not foreign."

"They might as well be; they know nothing of what it is to live in Ferelden."

"Would you sooner see Ferelden burn than reach out a hand for help?"

"Hmm, perhaps not. But I will need more than just your _assurances_ that you mean this nation no harm. So how do we do this, then? How do you prove it to me that you have Ferelden's best interests at heart?"

He walked up very close to where she stood while he said this. She was made nervous by his proximity, and his very great size, but did her best not to show it.

"I propose you come with us, and see for yourself," she said, and tried hard not to let her voice quaver.

He laughed. "So you would take me hostage to prove I may trust you?"

"You would not be a hostage. How could I hope to overpower you? If you are fearful, you may bring whatever protection you desire. A full complement of guards, if you wish."

"Ha! Persuasive. But I may need more than that."

She couldn't help it. She gulped. "What more do you need?"

"I need _you," _he said, and it was her worst nightmare come to life. She had thought she had prepared herself for this eventuality, but now she thought she might faint. Then, he continued speaking, just as if she hadn't turned white as a sheet at his words. "Not this _Alistair_. _You_ will be in charge. Otherwise, I'm not going near this operation of yours."

She staggered. Was it relief she felt, or only surprise? "Alistair…doesn't seem to have much inclination to lead. I've been making all the decisions up 'til now, even before the battle."

"Good. Now. How long do I have to prepare?"

"I told my companions to give me three days, unless they, you know…saw my head on a pike or something."

"Excellent. It won't take me as long as that. You can have my bed tonight: I'll be busy. First order of business, I suppose, is repealing the bounty on Grey Wardens." He ushered her into another room, where there was an oversized bedstead.

"I don't have to sleep here…I'd be fine in the stables," she said.

"Nonsense. Besides, it will give the servants something to gossip about. I don't give them many such opportunities and the poor souls do so love to do it. Are you afraid for your reputation?"

"I'm an elf. I _have_ no reputation," she said, before she could stop herself.

"Then there's nothing to worry about, is there? Get some sleep."

She wondered, still, whether she could trust him enough to actually sleep, and in his bed no less. This was a man who had wanted her dead up until but a few moments ago. But perhaps he hadn't, not really. Perhaps he had only thought there was a _possibility _she needed to die, not a certainty. He seemed the kind of man who would act on possibilities, particularly if the risks were big. She lay down, fully armored, and listened as he went about his business in the sitting room. After some long time, she began to drowse.

That was when he came back and stood in the bedroom door. "What would you have done," he said, "had I not explained exactly what I meant when I said 'I need you?'"

"I needed an ally. I would have done whatever you wanted me to do."

"Hmph. Interesting. I'll have to keep that in mind. Good night."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Pilgrim's Path**

After a walk of nearly a day, Loghaina came to the place on the Pilgrim's Path out of Denerim where she'd left her party. She detoured off the main track and called out to them before they came in sight.

"It's all right, it's just me."

Alistair jumped out of the bushes and swept her up in a hug. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said. "You thought better of it, didn't you? You realized that it was a crazy…plan…"

He trailed off as Loghain Mac Tir stepped out of the shadows.

"Maker's breath," Alistair swore. "You brought _him_ here? Are you mad?"

"I told you my intentions," she said.

"But I never thought you'd actually go _through _with it. This man turned his back on his _king. _What makes you think he won't betray _you?_ He probably followed you here so he could kill us all."

"If you're really afraid of that, Alistair, you don't have to follow me," Loghaina said. "I'm going to take the treaties and get support for Ferelden. You don't have to be a part of it."

"You…don't want me with you?" he asked.

"I do. But not if you're against my decision to make Teyrn Loghain a part of our team. I believe it is for the best. You don't have to agree with me."

"I…I would not leave you alone to his mercy," Alistair said at last. "I don't trust him. But I will follow you, and protect you if necessary. We're all the Wardens that are left. We must look out for each other."

"_Thank you, _Alistair. I'll hold you to that," she said, though she sounded somewhat exasperated. Her tone was different when she continued. "I'm glad you're with me."

"And how pleased am I to have your approval," Loghain said, dryly. "You say you do not trust me? Then we are even. You may watch me all you wish, _Boy, _for I shall be keeping my eye very closely upon _you."_

Alistair squared his shoulders belligerently and half-turned. "We were just cooking supper," he said to Loghaina. He sounded sulky. "I expect you're hungry."

She grimaced. "Did _you_ cook it?"

"Sten did."

"Oh. All right." She turned to Loghain. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the others."

"The _others?" _he asked.

"We've picked up some helpful associates along the way."

"I see. Well. I just can't _wait _to meet them."

She took slight umbrage at his sarcastic tone. Did he think the three of them could face down untold numbers of darkspawn alone? She chose not to make comment, however, and merely followed Alistair back to the little camp, from which the smell of a fine lamb stew wafted.

Sten was kneeling by the campfire: he stood up when they approached. Loghain stopped walking for a beat and then continued forward with one eyebrow cocked almost to his hairline.

"Teyrn Loghain, this is Sten, of the Beresaad," Loghaina introduced. Sten folded his arms across his chest and stared impassively at the human lord. Loghain mirrored his stance and scowled fearsomely. "And this is Leliana, formerly a lay sister of the Lothering Chantry."

Leliana stood up and set her lute aside. "Teyrn Loghain. It is…I never expected to meet you, Ser."

"An _Orlesian?" _Loghain said - shouted, almost. "You tell me that you won't involve the Orlesians and here you count one of them among your number."

"I didn't know Leliana _was_ Orlesian," Loghaina said. "Does it matter so much? She is only one, and only a Chantry sister."

"You clearly don't know _what_ she is. She could be a bard - a spy."

Leliana's already pale face turned stark white. Loghaina turned to her.

"Leliana, are you a spy?" she asked, with a roll of the eyes.

"I am not a spy, Loghaina. But I am - I _was_ - a bard. If you are to trust me, you should know the truth," Leliana said.

"Thank you for telling me," Loghaina said. "I had wondered where you learned your fighting skills."

"You're going to _trust _her when she just told you she's a bloody Orlesian bard?" Loghain demanded.

"I am, for she has not yet given me any reason _not_ to trust her, unlike _you_, Teyrn Loghain, who allowed our king and half our army to die because you were suspicious of we Grey Wardens. I'm not saying you were wrong, for I do not know what would have happened had you charged regardless, but you have shown yourself willing to take drastic measures for your suspicions."

"So happy that you're willing to concede I _may_ have been in the right," Loghain said. He looked at her with narrowed eyes and a narrower smile. "I wonder whether your trust may not be careless, and therefore dangerous, but I will let it be for now. Since you're clearly wise enough at least not to trust _me._ But how much provocation, I wonder, will it take before your trust is lost? Would you be able to dispose of your _trusted ally _should time prove her unworthy?"

"Without a doubt, or hesitation," Loghaina said, with steady black eyes fixed on his face.

"Good to know," Leliana said. "Lucky thing I am not plotting to betray."

"Could you, now?" Loghain said, as if Leliana had not spoken. "We'll see. You think you're putting me on trial, Warden, but you're on trial here as much as I."

"I know," Loghaina said. After a long moment further, she dropped her eyes from his and pointed out the small fire some ways distant from the main camp. "That over there is Morrigan. She's an apostate. I hope you have no issue with that."

"Magic is dangerous, but bloody useful," Loghain said. "I have no issue with apostates provided they make no issue for me."

"The stew is ready," Sten said. "We will eat now."

"You failed to introduce me to the most promising member of your party, Warden," Loghain said as he sat down and accepted a bowl of stew from the Qunari. The dog stared at him, stumpy tail a-wag, for he knew he was being spoken of. "What is this fine fellow's name?"

"Gravy."

"Ha! Well, I guess that's easy to remember, at least. Seems just about as bad as some of the names I've given my animals, though. Thought I was the only one who named creatures after foodstuffs. Here you, have some of this," he said, and tossed the dog a piece of lamb from his bowl. The dog snapped it up and licked his chops appreciatively.

Loghaina ate her stew from a tin mug. "The matter of the bounty has been settled," she said, between mouthfuls. "We shouldn't have any more trouble like we had in Lothering. Now we have to decide where to start. Any suggestions?"

"The Circle is closest, barring some miraculous Dalish sighting," Alistair said.

"I've made contacts at the Circle," Loghain said. "It shouldn't be difficult to get their cooperation."

"I thought you didn't care to work with 'foreigners,' Teyrn Loghain," Loghaina said.

Loghain's smile was wolfish and not very friendly. "I don't. But I may have been egging you on a bit when I suggested I consider the Circle mages foreign. They are Ferelden's best weapon, and I wish we had more of them."

"They're _people," _Loghaina said. Loghain cocked his head to one side and looked at her curiously.

"Of course they are. Who said that they were not?" he said.

"You did. You called them weapons."

"Their _magic _is a weapon, the only part of them that has any bearing on this war of ours, and_ you, _Warden, are oversensitive. It is interesting to note that you show this sensitivity towards more than just the plight of your own people. It says something about you…but at the moment, it is still up in the air exactly what that is."

"Let me guess. You think it might be _foolish_ to show compassion," Loghaina said.

"Depending on the circumstances. Compassion is all very well when you can afford it, but in a war there's little room for it. I hope you know that."

She fingered the tiny crystal vial of blood that hung at her throat. "I know it."

"Yeah? We'll see," Loghain said.

There was little more talk during supper, and afterward Leliana picked up her lute again and played softly. Loghaina stood up and gathered the dishes. "I'll wash tonight," she said. "I want to clean myself up anyway."

"_Thank _you," Alistair said, who hated washing dishes. Loghaina ruffled his hair in passing as she headed down to the creek.

"Hey, watch the hair!" he said.

She knelt by the water's edge and rinsed out the dishes carefully, then stripped to her smalls and washed herself with the frigid water as best she could. A step behind her made her turn abruptly and reach for her daggers.

It was Loghain. "Easy, Warden," he said.

"What are you _doing?" _she demanded, a bit panicky. She dropped her daggers and reached for a piece of clothing to cover herself with.

"I've been on the road all day as well, you know, and I'd like to wash."

"Right now? Right _here?"_

"There seems to be a great quantity of poison oak around this streambed," he said. "There really isn't a better place to do it. As to the timing, when should I do it, would you imagine?"

"Sometime when I'm not here," she said.

"What's the problem?" he asked. "You're not naked."

"I might as well be."

"You are far too sensitive, Warden. Privacy is a luxury we can scarcely afford under these conditions. But if it truly bothers you so much I will wait my turn at a distance."

"Please do so," she said. She watched him out of sight before she returned to her ablutions, shaken.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Kinloch Hold**

Lake Calenhad had a distinctive smell. They could smell it long before they ever saw it. It wasn't an unpleasant smell. It was, however, a distinctly _fishy _smell.

"Ahhh…smell that smelt air," Alistair said. "Get it? Smelt? Like the fish?"

"Yes, Alistair, we get it," Loghaina said. "Let's just continue, shall we?"

"I _smelt_ it coming up the road. You can surely _smelt _it for a long ways, can't you?" Alistair said, with a giggle. Loghaina sighed.

"Is he always like this?" Loghain asked.

"Sometimes he's worse," Loghaina said.

"Wonderful. Two Grey Wardens left in the nation and one of them's the village idiot."

"Personally I believe he would be sufficient for the entire country," Sten said. "If this were a country composed predominantly of _other_ than idiots."

"It's a fair cop, though I wish it weren't so," Loghain said. "But what country _isn't _composed of mostly idiots?"

"A nation that exists under the Qun does not _allow_ for idiots."

"Hmph. Sounds idyllic. But only for the Qunari."

"Any man with the wisdom to accept the Qun will find the same idyll."

They reached the shoreline, where there was a small inn and not much else. Gravy trotted down to the little beach and lifted his leg against the side of a small, decrepit boat that was pulled up onto the sand.

"Well, there's the tower," Alistair said. He sounded a bit weary, and small wonder since, as a former templar trainee, he was not a great favorite amongst mages. "Now the question is, do we brave the place with what's left of the day, or do we make camp and storm the gates in the morning? I vote for the latter. I'm starving."

"So am I," Loghaina said. "Let's make camp."

They found a good spot and pitched their tents. Loghaina volunteered to cook. Sten walked up to Loghain.

"Draw your weapon," he said. "I will endeavor not to hurt you too badly."

Loghain sized him up, then drew his sword and shield. "I appreciate that," he said.

They circled each other, and then Sten launched an attack. Loghain sidestepped it but Sten recovered before he could land a strike of his own.

"For an aged man, in massive plate," Sten said, "you are nimble."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Loghain said.

"Now. Let us see if you can do more than evade."

They fought for five minutes, ten, a half an hour. The others ate supper and watched them. An hour passed, and then an hour and a half. It was a test of stamina as much as skill. The clang of Sten's big sword off Loghain's broad shield began to ring in the others' heads like a Chantry bell. Neither seemed to be able to land more than a touch on the other. Finally, at the end of two hours, Sten stood straight and lowered his blade.

"You are a warrior," he said. "Why then did you abandon the field of battle? Your place was there."

"I had to," Loghain said. "To save what men I could."

"You retreated because you did not trust your men. That is wrong, but given the quality of human soldiers, it is understandable."

"Your supper is stone cold," Alistair said. "Not that I care, or anything."

"I've eaten far worse than cold rabbit," Loghain said, and sat down by the fire.

They slept, and in the morning they had a quick breakfast of tea and jerky and discussed tactics.

"Morrigan, you may not wish to come along with us," Loghaina said. "You may be traveling with the Grey Wardens, but I doubt that means you're safe from templars."

"I have my own reasons for risking the tower," Morrigan said. She shouldered a lightweight pack. "I will come along."

"If you really want to, then by all means come along. We'll look after you as best we can. Just…try to lay low, I suppose. There shouldn't be any need for magic-casting inside."

"I was hoping for the opportunity to explore a bit," Morrigan said. "I've often wondered what the Circle must be like."

"Exploring? With a pack on your back?" Alistair said, with a sneer. "It's a tower, not a King's Preserve. You're planning on stealing something, aren't you?"

"_Alistair…" _Loghaina said.

"You may suspect me all you wish, _Alistair, _but I simply believe in being prepared," Morrigan said, haughtily.

"Prepared to make _witchy mischief," _Alistair said.

"Oh ho, you would be so much handsomer and more personable were you a toad," Morrigan said.

"Children, please," Loghain said.

"Don't treat me like a child," Alistair said.

"Then don't act like one," Loghain said. "Honestly, you're giving me a low, dull ache in my tailbone."

Alistair stuck his tongue out at him, and then again at Morrigan. Loghain sighed and passed a hand over his eyes.

"All right, let's clean up and head to the dock," Loghaina said. "Maker, but this looks to be a long day."

"It might not be so bad," Loghain said. "The templars may give us trouble, but the mages want what we want: them on the battlefield, using their talents to protect Ferelden. At the very least, it's a taste of freedom for them, and a chance at something more."

"What _more?" _Alistair asked. "Once the battles are over it's back to the tower for them."

"Not necessarily. Maric set a mage free for his service during the Rebellion. Why can't the same sort of thing happen again?"

"Free mages. What an _earth-shattering _concept," Morrigan said, with a roll of the eyes. "Those tower biddies wouldn't know what to do with freedom if they got it."

"An unbound mage is a danger to itself and to everything around it," Sten said.

"Does it only bother you, Warden, when _I _say something about mages that sounds less than humanizing, or are you going to jump down _his_ throat, too?" Loghain said.

Loghaina put a hand over her own eyes. "I feel like I'm babysitting. Let's just go."

She led the way down to the shore and the dock that was the only way to the tower of Kinloch Hold. A templar stood there, young but already showing signs of the delirium that came from prolonged lyrium exposure.

"Are you going to the tower? No one goes to the tower. Knight-Commander's orders. Move along," the young man said.

"We are Grey Wardens, here with Teyrn Loghain to seek the assistance of the mages against the Blight," Loghaina said.

"_The Grey Wardens and Teyrn Loghain? _Go on, tell me another one. I like a good laugh."

Loghain drew his sword and held the point of it beneath the young man's chin. "Believe her now?" he asked.

"Right. Grey Wardens and Teyrn Loghain. Whatever you say. Right this way, I suppose."

They all piled into the little boat - a precarious fit - and the templar rowed them out to the island. Inside the tower they found chaos, panic, and disorder.

"What's going on here, Greagior?" Loghain demanded. The grey-haired Knight-Commander turned.

"Teyrn Loghain? What are you doing here? When we sent to Denerim for reinforcements, this was not what we had in mind."

"Speak sense, man. For what do you need reinforcements?"

"I will speak plainly. The tower has fallen; we've lost control of the mages. I've sent to Denerim for the Right of Annulment."

"The Right of Annulment? Odds bodkins, man. You just want to _destroy _everything?"

"What's the Right of Annulment?" Loghaina asked.

"The right of the templars to dissolve the Circle. Violently," Loghain said. "He wants to kill all the mages."

"It's the only way," Greagior said. "Demons and abominations stalk the tower, and it has been days. Nothing else could be alive in there."

"The mages are hardly defenseless," Loghaina said.

"No. It is too much to hope for survivors with those…_things_ everywhere."

Loghaina's eyes met Loghain's. The look in them was clear. She nodded firmly, and he nodded back.

"_We _shall look for survivors. It's only right," she said.

"I assure you, an abomination is a force to be reckoned with, and you will face many in the tower," Greagior said.

"_Someone's _got to do your job for you, it seems," Loghain said. "Might as well be us."

"Know this: I will only accept that we have won back the tower when I hear it from First Enchanter Irving himself," Greagior said.

"Then our path is set. We must find Irving," Loghaina said. She turned to her group. "If any of you want to back out, now's the time."

"I do not agree with this course of action, but I will follow. For now," Sten said.

"If we're going, we'd better go. No sense standing here getting the heebie-jeebies," Alistair said.

"All right," Loghaina said. "Let's do this." She led the way towards the barred doors. The templars opened them for their passage, and barred them again behind them.

"As I recall it, locking the doors and not letting anything in or out was definitely the templar 'plan B,'" Alistair said.

They passed through a silent hall to another closed door. Loghaina led the way through it, daggers at the ready. A white-haired mage in red robes arrested her spell before it could be cast.

"It's you! No! Come no closer. Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand," she said.

"Wynne - it was Wynne, wasn't it?" Loghaina said. "I remember you from Ostagar. Calm down. We're here to help."

"Help? Help how? Have the templars sent for the Right of Annulment?"

"They have, but we're not going to let them use it. We're here to clear the tower of abominations and save the Circle. We need to find First Enchanter Irving; Greagior said he'll only take his word for it that the tower is safe."

"Then our course is laid before us. Let me help you," Wynne said.

"There are children here," Loghaina said. "Will they be safe without you?"

"If we kill everything that stands before us, they shall. Petra and Kinnon will take care of them."

"Then let us be off. There is no time to waste."

"I will drop the barrier," Wynne said. "Be ready for anything."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: The Fade**

It took awhile, apparently, for Wynne to notice Loghaina's companions in her evident relief that they were not templars. When she saw Teyrn Loghain, she bridled, but said nothing. At first.

"We have a job to do," she said. "Let us get to it."

She dropped the magical barrier that kept the demons and abominations at bay, and Loghaina led the way onward. Wynne followed, after giving a wary and angry look to Loghain. They found themselves in the Circle library, overrun by twisted abominations. The place was in shambles, and they did not leave the mess lesser in their wake.

"What happened here?" Loghaina asked. "How could things go so badly so quickly?"

"I only wish I knew what happened," Wynne said. "Senior Enchanter Uldred called for a meeting. All the senior enchanters were supposed to be there, but I was very tired after coming in from Ostagar and didn't feel up to it. I was in my room when all hell broke loose. I was able to round up a few apprentices and run for the doors, but found them barred. I barricaded us in that space in which you found me, and that is all I know."

They pushed their way up to the next floor, where they found a Tranquil still minding his disrupted stockroom.

"Please do not enter the stockroom. It is not in a fit state to be seen," the Tranquil said in a flat, uninflected voice.

"Owain, thank heavens you're all right!" Wynne said. "Why did you not try to escape?"

"I did try, but encountered a barrier. I returned to the stockroom. It is familiar. I do not wish to die. Perhaps Niall will succeed in saving us all."

"What is this Niall trying to do?" Loghaina asked.

"I do not know, but he came by the stockroom and took the Litany of Adralla," Owain said.

"Niall was at the meeting. He would know what has happened," Wynne said. "This is worse than I feared."

"How is it worse?" Loghaina asked.

"The Litany protects against blood magic. If that is what we're facing, we will need its protection."

"Then we need to find this Niall, then, too," Loghaina said. "Lets hope _before_ we run into too many blood mages."

They raced into the hallway and began clearing the rooms. "First Enchanter Irving's study is at the end of the hallway. I hope he is there," Wynne said.

"I doubt very much that he would see this as an opportunity to catch up on his light reading," Loghain said.

They cleared the rooms as they passed. They found more abominations, more demons, and even risen corpses. They found a terrified mage hiding in a closet, but no sign of other survivors.

They came to the last room in on the right, the First Enchanter's study. No one was there. "We must keep trying," Wynne said. "Perhaps Irving is on the next floor."

They headed up the nearby stairs. They fought their way through another room of abominations and undead before Loghaina realized that one of her party was missing.

"Has anyone seen Morrigan?" she asked.

"I saw her in the First Enchanter's study, but I guess I lost track of her since then," Alistair said.

Loghaina rushed back to the stairs. "Morrigan?" she called down them.

"I'm here, I'm coming," Morrigan called back. She appeared in the stairwell and took the steps two at a time. "You needn't worry about me, I _can _look after myself."

"Well, with this place in the state it is, I'll worry regardless," Loghaina said. "We need to stick together."

"Yes yes, never fear. I'll not wander off again."

"I am relieved to hear it."

They continued clearing out the tower room by room. In the circular central room of the third floor they found three Tranquil held in some sort of magical cage while an abomination attempted to turn them into more of the same. They dispatched the creature and its minions and the cage fell.

"We've cleared the lower floors," Wynne said. "It's safe to leave."

The Tranquil shuffled out serenely, as unruffled by the experience as it was possible to be.

"How many more floors are there?" Loghaina asked, as she contemplated another staircase.

"Just two. If we do not find Irving, I don't know how we'll convince Greagior not to kill the surviving mages," Wynne said.

"Don't give up hope," Loghaina said. "We may yet find him alive."

"I hope so," Wynne said.

They climbed the stairs and found a horror-house. Gobbets of red, pulsating meat festooned the walls and floors. "It looks like a goat exploded in here," Loghain said.

"How do you know what it looks like when a goat explodes?" Alistair said.

"A herd of goats broke loose and got into the First Day skyrockets one year. Terrible thing to experience. Like a bleating battlefield."

"Ugh. Sorry I asked," Alistair said.

"Let's keep moving, but cautiously. Something's different here. It feels…strange," Loghaina said.

They cleared the outside rooms of blood mages, demons, and possessed templars, and headed for the circular inner room. An abomination stood there, over the body of a young man.

"That's Niall!" Wynne gasped. Loghaina darted forward, with her daggers out, but stopped short before she reached the abomination.

"So heavy," she said, and dropped her daggers. "What's going on?"

"Resist!" Wynne said. "You must resist!"

"But why?" the abomination said. "Aren't you tired of fighting?"

Alistair yawned. "It's the strangest thing. I feel like I could go to sleep right here and now."

"Oh bugger," Loghain said, and dropped heavily to one knee. Loghaina slumped to the floor and the next thing she knew, she was in a dreamscape unfamiliar to her.

She stepped forward. Though she did not realize that she was, indeed, dreaming, she knew something wasn't right. She couldn't remember how she got here.

Duncan was there, ahead of her. Excited, she ran toward him. She'd never thought she'd see him again. Then she stopped. She'd never thought she'd see him again because…because…

Because he was _dead_. Her excitement was replaced by fear. She wasn't going to be able to put the reins back in another's hands…she might not be holding any reins at all. Maybe she was dead.

"Where is this place?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"Why, you're in Weisshaupt Fortress, of course," Duncan said, far more cheerfully than she could remember ever hearing him say anything. "Where did you think you were?"

"Weisshaupt Fortress?"

"Home of our Order," Duncan said. "Your home and mine. Do you truly not remember?"

"I remember Weisshaupt Fortress, but I've never been there. It's a thousand miles away from Ferelden."

Duncan chuckled. "We came here after we defeated the darkspawn. Surely you remember that? We set the Deep Roads ablaze. Our glorious triumph will be sung of for generations."

"_Defeated _the darkspawn? _Permanently?"_

"Permanently. It is all you could ever wish for, is it not?"

It was. And that was a problem, because…because…

Why was it so hard to think?

"The darkspawn cannot be defeated so easily," she said slowly, after wracking her brains. "If it were as easy as setting the Deep Roads on fire, we'd have done it long before now."

"Lighting fires below ground is a dangerous business," Duncan said. "So much can go wrong. Underground fires that find a source of fuel like coal can burn for decades unchecked. The surface can weaken, sinkholes can form. It was considered too risky, but at last we knew there was nothing else to lose. The darkspawn are gone."

Could it really be true? Could the darkspawn be gone forever? Ever since she was recruited, it had been her dream.

_Dream._

"This isn't real. This is a dream. I've got to wake up," she said.

"This is no dream. How can you say such a thing?"

She backed away. "This _is_ a dream. You're not Duncan. Duncan is dead."

The demon that was impersonating Duncan attacked, and Loghaina was forced to destroy him. She felt rather bad about it, even though she knew it wasn't really Duncan. The false Weisshaupt dissolved around her.

She met a young man wearing robes. "Are you another demon?" he asked. "No, I can see you're like me. Good job getting out of that trap."

"You're…_Niall, _aren't you?" she asked. "Where are we, exactly?"

"This is the Fade. The Sloth demon trapped us here. I've been looking for a way out, but it just keeps going on and on. There's always another dreamer, another demon, another test. It's hopeless. I've been here for what must be days."

"Well I just got here," Loghaina said, "and I'm getting my friends and getting out. You coming with me?"

"You…really think you can make it out, don't you? I'm so tired…but maybe I have the strength to go a little way further, at least. Lead on."

She led him through a dozen nightmares, mages and templars alike trapped in the Fade by the demons that tied them there. With her mind a blank, feeling nothing but the need to strike down all foes, Loghaina killed everything in her path, which set the tormented free. Free to what, she did not know. They had all been trapped probably for days, it was likely their bodies were dead. But at least their souls were no longer bound. Niall helped her all he could, but his magic was weak.

She finally one of her friends. Morrigan stood in the marsh clearing, and her mother was imploring with her. Morrigan stood impassive with her arms folded over her chest. "You truly do not know my mother if you think I can be fooled by this ridiculous imitation," she said.

"Morrigan, the demon has trapped us in the Fade. We have to get out of here," Loghaina said.

"I know that. Do please kill this thing for me, won't you?"

No sooner said than done. _"Thank _you. Let us go, shall we? I cannot see the back of this place too soon."

They found Wynne, surrounded by dead apprentices. Unlike Morrigan, she did not realize she was in the Fade, and it took some convincing to shake her out of it. Then they found Sten, who knew he was dreaming, but who could not at first bring himself to waken. Gravy was merely asleep, and woke with a happy bark at Loghaina's nudge. Alistair was surrounded by family. Getting him to shake off the trappings of his dream was difficult, but she finally convinced him. Then, at last, they found Loghain.

He was obviously trapped in a nightmare, for the torn and bloody figure of the king and a dozen dead soldiers confronted him. He had his hands up in a fending gesture. He looked at them as they approached, and his scowl deepened.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded. "Surprised to see that I feel _badly_ that I could do nothing for them?"

"No," Loghaina said. "I'm rather glad to see it, actually. If you didn't feel badly, I'd know there was something wrong with you."

"Let us leave him here for awhile," Wynne said. "He should reflect on what he has done."

"No. That serves no purpose, as I'm sure he does so often or the demons would not have picked this scenario to trap him. We have work to do, or have you forgotten the predicament of the Circle?"

"No. No, I suppose we must take care of this."

They attacked the demons and dispatched them. After that, they found the Sloth demon, the main force that bound them in the Fade. They banded together to destroy him at last.

"You really are amazing, do you know that?" Niall said when they were done. "You've set us all free. You'll save the Circle, I know it. When you return, take the Litany of Adralla from my body. Use it to defeat Uldred and the other blood mages. Make my death mean something."

Niall faded out, and so too did the Fade. Loghaina found herself lying on the cold tile floor of the Circle tower, and her friends were all stirring.

"Maker's breath, that's an experience I'm not eager to repeat," Alistair said.

Loghaina found the papers on Niall's still form. "Come on, we've got to move. The Right of Annulment could arrive at any time."

They followed her in clearing out the last rooms. Finally they came to a templar held captive in a cage of magic next to the stairs that led to the top floor.

"Don't worry; we'll get you out of there," Loghaina said. "We're after the ones that did this."

"They are upstairs, in the Harrowing chamber," the templar said. "They're blood mages, they're turning everyone with their evil magics. You must destroy them all."

"We will. It will be over soon."

Loghaina ran for the stairs, with the others behind her, and burst into the upper chamber with her daggers out. She recognized bald-headed Senior Enchanter Uldred, who she'd encountered at Ostagar. He was taking captive mages and turning them into abominations.

"_Attack!" _Loghaina shouted, and launched herself forward. The demon inside Uldred came out to play, a gigantic creature of Pride.

"Don't forget the Litany!" Wynne shouted.

Loghaina turned and threw it at her. "You use it!" she shouted back.

At intervals during the battle the Pride demon attempted to turn one of the captive mages. Whenever he did, Wynne would quickly read a passage from the Litany. Its power seemed to lie in its unadulterated tedium, a rhythm of words that was calculated to dull the mind to anything and everything else. It worked to keep the mages from turning, which helped keep the battle manageable. It was difficult, but together they brought the abominations and the Pride demon down.

Wynne moved to First Enchanter Irving's side.

"Are you all right, Irving?" she asked.

"Oh, I've been better," the old man said. "But it could have been much, much worse. I have you to thank for my rescue, I see."

"I was not alone. These good people helped us. The Circle would be finished if they hadn't come."

"So I see. Come, let us leave this place. I will have to ask you to help me down the stairs."

They helped the old man down the tower, and collected the young templar on the way. "Greagior, let us through," Irving demanded at the barred doors. They opened.

"Irving! Maker's breath, I didn't expect to see you alive," Greagior said.

"We've cleared the tower. Your problem is solved," Loghaina said.

The young templar interrupted. "These mages have been in the hands of blood mages for days! You cannot know how many have turned!"

"_I _am the Knight-Commander here," Greagior said. "We have won back the tower."

"This may not be the opportune moment, but we are Grey Wardens seeking the Circle's aid," Loghaina said to the First Enchanter.

"So I see. Well, the Circle owes you a debt we cannot easily repay. When you call us, we will come."

"Irving, I seek permission to follow this young woman, if she will have me along," Wynne said.

"We'd be honored," Loghaina said.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Yes. Wouldn't we just?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Lake Calenhad**

If Loghaina thought that bringing in a pleasant, elderly woman would ease the burden of the conflicting personalities she had to deal with, she was wrong. Wynne had a sharp tongue, and she liked to use it. She liked to use it particularly on Loghain, who she clearly blamed for the death of a superior individual who couldn't have picked her out of a crowd of three. It was such a relief to leave the bickering and sniping behind and shed her clothes for a quick dip in the lake. She touched her bare toes to the water and shivered. It was freezingly cold. But that was part of the thrill, and just like jumping into the duck pond out back of Alarith's store in the alienage, it would only be cold for a moment. She waded out to deeper water and dove in.

The cold hit her like a shockwave. It was more than a chill, it was bone-deep penetrating cold that stole her breath away. She bobbed to the surface and gasped, and shivered convulsively. When would it stop being so cold? Maybe it was a bit too late in the year for swimming. She paddled stiffly back toward the shore.

"That was unwise," a voice said. High, drawling, biting. Loghain. He squatted on the shoreline next to her discarded clothes, and for a wonder he wasn't wearing his armor. "Only a lunatic or a drunkard would swim in Lake Calenhad, even in summer, which I'm not sure you are aware this is _not_. It's posted all along the shoreline: No swimming."

She stopped where she was. Cold or no cold, she wasn't about to haul herself out onto shore in front of him in all her glory. "Why is that?" she asked, through her chattering teeth. Then an unpleasant thought struck her. She glanced apprehensively at the dark water. "Killer fish?"

He shook his head. "No. Some whopping big ones, but none that kill people. No, the reason you're mad to swim in Lake Calenhad is because the lake is extraordinarily deep, and that keeps the water extraordinarily cold, all year long. You can freeze to death inside of fifteen minutes."

His tone was conversational, matter-of-fact. "You're just trying to scare me," she said.

"Actually, my lady, I am trying very hard not to. If you panic you could drown yourself, and quite frankly I have no desire to jump in after you. What I _am_ trying to do is get you out of that water."

"I don't have any clothes on," she said, after a moment's silence.

"So much to the better," he said. "Wet clothes would only make coming out of that water worse, and it's going to be bad, believe me. You…you don't know much about survival in the wilderness, do you? Why would you? You've lived in the city all your short life. Now out of that water, quickly. Your modesty isn't worth your life."

Perhaps it wasn't, but she would preserve what she could. She hauled herself out onto shore and quickly hid her bare breasts with her crossed arms. It was even colder on land than it had been in the water, and she didn't know how that was even possible.

Loghain grabbed her by the shoulders and drew her in close to his chest. "Stop! What are you doing?" she demanded, panicked.

"Saving your life, you little fool," he said. He tucked her in to as small a space as possible against his body. "You need to warm up, and you need to do so evenly, or cold blood running back to your heart from your extremities could kill you."

She shuddered, a heavy spasm in her shivering state. "There's…a lot of ways to die out here, aren't there?" she asked.

He chuckled slightly. "An almost infinite variety of ways, Warden," he said. "Come now: your modesty will have to abide. You need a blanket and the campfire as quickly as possible."

She was too cold to worry about it as he carried her back to the camp and the circle of warm firelight. Alistair shot to his feet as they approached.

"What in the Maker's holy name is going on here?" he demanded.

"No time for explanations; get me a blanket, quickly," Loghain said. Wynne immediately handed over her own. Loghain tucked it around Loghaina's body and himself as he lowered himself to a seat cross-legged by the fire. "The Warden took an ill-advised dip in the lake."

"Get your hands off her, you…you…you _lech!" _Alistair said. He reached out to snatch her away but Sten stopped him with a big hand in the middle of his chest.

"He is saving her life," Sten said. "Can't you see that? Are you not native to this cold place? How can you not be aware of the dangers here?"

Morrigan came over from her own campfire and began to brew a pot of tea. "This will help," she said. "Once she's warmed sufficiently, a little hot tea will turn the trick."

Alistair still stood clenching and unclenching his fists in impotent fury.

"If you want to be helpful," Loghain said to him, "why don't you go down to the lakeside and gather the Warden's garments? They're dry, thank heavens, so she'll be able to put them back on soon."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, half in shock. "I always did cold tubbing at home. I didn't know."

"Well, lesson learned," Loghain said. "You lived to profit by it this time."

He kept talking to her, perhaps trying to keep her awake. "There are hot springs around Denerim, did you know that? Some of them are so hot you have to jump out and roll around in the snow every few minutes. They're popular with the nobility, but I've never gone to them myself. I don't much care to lay around in water. You'd probably like it, particularly right now, eh?"

She felt his hands move on her arms and back. "Her skin is warmer now. She's going to be all right."

Alistair brought her clothes back and dropped them by the edge of the blanket. She had little desire to reach out for them, and disrupt the warm pocket she was tucked into.

"How did you know?" she asked. "You weren't watching me, were you?"

"You mean, how did I know you'd gone for a swim?" Loghain asked. "I was heading down to the lakeside to wash out my armor - what I thought _you'd_ gone to do - when I heard the splash. I dropped my armor and came running. I thought you fell in, didn't know if you could even swim. When I saw your clothes and figured out what you'd done I couldn't believe it. I figured out _something_ about you, Warden. You can't read, can you? There's a sign posted 'No Swimming' not two feet from where you jumped in."

"No, I can't read," she said, defensively. "My mother was trying to teach me, but the _shems_ she worked for killed her."

"I couldn't read, either, not until I was in my thirties," Loghain said. "My mother didn't know how to read, and I don't think my father did, either, though I never thought to ask him. It was difficult to learn, but worth it. You should consider learning. You're young and most of the time you're smart, it shouldn't be so hard for you."

"I could teach you, Warden," Wynne said. "I have several books in my pack."

"Come on, Warden; put your clothes on. I'll keep you covered. Literally," Loghain said.

She snaked out an arm and grabbed her smallclothes. She wriggled into them under the blanket and grabbed for the next garment, her rough-weave blouse. She dressed herself, and then he deposited her and her blanket by the fire and went to collect his abandoned armor.

Morrigan handed her a mug of tea. She took it gratefully and sipped it. She was warm enough now to be humiliated. Her cheeks burned bright red.

"Shake it off, Warden," Loghain said, when he returned. "Everybody looks like an idiot once or a dozen times in life."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Bann Loren's Lands**

She lay in her tent, grateful for the warmth of the nearby campfire. She'd always loved the cold, and cold water. The thrill of diving in, coming up with her teeth chattering, paddling about as her muscles slowly warmed. But that was in shallow water, only but a little colder than the temperature of the air. Lake Calenhad was something entirely different, a liquid icicle. She remembered hearing some old shemlen talking about the lake once, now that she thought about it. A fishmonger, perhaps, or a fisherman she'd passed by in the market. He'd said that Lake Calenhad never gave up its dead; the cold water locked them away forevermore in the icy depths. She might have been one of them, if she'd tried to brave out the cold. Food for the whopping big fish that swam in it.

She owed Loghain her life now. For the second time, really, considering he might just as well have had her executed when she came to him in Denerim. She would have gotten out of the water on her own, she wasn't that stupid, but without his warm body to counteract the effects of the cold air and colder water, she might not have made it back to the fireside. Someone would have come looking for her eventually, but that was small comfort if she would have been dead from exposure inside of fifteen minutes. Less than that, probably, since that was most likely a measurement of how long a _shem _could survive, with a thicker, fattier body. Elves had next to no body fat to keep them warm.

It felt strange, to be beholden in such a way. To a _shemlen_, of all people. More than just a shemlen, a _nobleman_. The last of that ilk she'd encountered…well, she'd had to kill him. She put that episode from her mind as swiftly as possible. Vaughan Kendalls didn't deserve to take up even a moment of her thoughts, the filthy beast.

She'd thought the filth of his hands on her would never wash away, that she would feel it every time a human man so much as looked at her, and for a time it had been that way…but she hadn't felt it while Loghain held her, and that was good. There was humiliation in being cradled naked in his arms but it was of the sort one felt when caught in a boneheaded maneuver, the type that made her cheeks burn. It wasn't the _other_ type. The humiliation of being manhandled, a humiliation that made her feel like crawling into some dark, small place and dying.

She could deal with coming across idiotic. The other thing was harder to cope with. She was glad she did not seem to have to deal with that in this instance. There hadn't been anything salacious about being held by him, it had simply been a matter of necessity. She'd felt _safe_ in his arms, which was strange in the extreme. He was, after all, the man who had placed a bounty on her head. Maybe it had been the shock that made her feel that way, but she could easily have fallen asleep right there in his lap.

She turned over onto her side and scrunched the roll of blanket that served her for a pillow. She wasn't getting to sleep very easily _now_. Too many thoughts, and too many fears about what she'd see when all she could see was the back of her eyelids. Her dreams about the Archdemon kept her from meaningful rest on most nights. She wondered if it was as bad for Alistair. He didn't seem to have any trouble falling asleep, though he made a lot of noises all night long that suggested he dreamt a lot.

She forced herself to think soothing thoughts. A burbling stream of clear, crisp water chuckling to itself as it flowed over smooth, round pebbles. Distant thunder, and the sound of rain pattering on a stout roof. Ocean surf, with the waves tickling the pylons of the docks. Crickets chirping - an easy thing to imagine, since she could actually hear a few of them, reep-reeping in their rusty voices as fast as it was possible for them to sing as they advertised the temperature. Eventually, with strict discipline, she managed to soothe herself to sleep. Her dreams were far from peaceful.

In the morning, they breakfasted on Alistair's attempt at porridge, which with nothing but water to flavor it was as grey and disheartening as the overcast skies.

"It is a wonder," Loghain said, after a hearty spoonful, "that one pot of food can be both undercooked and burnt at the same time."

"We should discuss our itinerary," Loghaina said. "We're close to the Brecilian Forest. I think we should try looking for the Dalish next. I hope someone else has a good idea on how to find a nomadic people."

"There's always a clan or two close to Gwaren this time of year, on a normal year," Loghain said. "They send traders to the village to sell their handcrafts and purchase things I suppose they consider luxuries. If we cut through the forest we should find one of their paths; then it's a matter of following the freshest set of tracks."

"The Brecilian Forest is supposed to be sort of _dangerous, _right?" Alistair said. "I mean, I've heard all sorts of stories."

"The back alleys of Denerim are _dangerous," _Loghain said. "Our party is strong. The woods won't be much of a problem."

"Let's clean up and break camp," Loghaina said.

They set off under gloomy skies, but by midday it cleared. For a gloomy autumn day to suddenly clear without once letting fall a drop of rain was unusual to say the least, but it was an unusual autumn. They hadn't had a fraction of the expected precipitation. It was rather ominous, in a way, suggesting as it did that the darkspawn incursion affected even the weather, but it made for easier travels.

They cut across country, through the lands of a bann known for the flexibility of his loyalties. The last Loghain had known, Bann Loren was counted among his allies, but for all he knew that had changed. Even if it had, it was likely not an issue; they would be past his holdings and gone before anyone knew they were there.

"What if we meet up with a patrol?" Leliana asked.

"Then I'll identify myself," Loghain said. "If that's not enough, we'll kill them. Loren isn't wealthy enough to have much of a patrol."

"Seems rather harsh, considering we're meant to be protecting this land, don't you think?"

"It is _because_ we're protecting this land that we don't have time to be held up by fools. If they're too stupid to step aside for me, they're too stupid to step aside for the Grey Wardens."

"He _is _speaking of a worst-case scenario, Leliana," Loghaina said. "Most likely we'll not see anybody. You can walk across most of Ferelden without once meeting another person, I've heard."

"If you stay off the major roads and highway, that's fairly accurate," Loghain said. "Lots of wild spaces in Ferelden. Even the cultivated areas don't have so many people as pastures in them."

They marched through the hilly woodland, a tame forest preserve very unlike the wild Brecilian. Alistair suggested they sing, a suggestion not met with much enthusiasm from anyone but Leliana, so a chorus of two marked their progress up hill and down dale until at last stony looks from the others silenced their voices.

"You guys are no fun," Alistair groused.

They crested a small rise that led into a deeper valley. Loghain, tracking ahead, gestured for them to stop. "Now, what's going on here?" he said.

"What is it?" Loghaina asked.

He chuckled humorlessly. "A patrol, of all the unlikely things. But it seems they've already caught somebody. Somebody I very much recognize. That fool Maraigne…_Ser Elric_ Maraigne. Used to crony up to Cailan. He looks…somewhat the worse for wear."

One of the surrounding patrolmen raised his blade and struck the man down.

"Well, that was uncalled for," Loghaina said. "What harm could one poor man who looks like he's been running for days do to _Bann Loren's _lands? A bloody _knight, _no less?"

"Good question. Perhaps we should ask them," Loghain said.

"I'd rather just kill them," Loghaina said.

"That could work, too," he said.

Loghaina gestured to her comrades_. "Attack!" _she cried.

They launched themselves down the steep little hillside. Taken by surprise, the patrolmen marshaled their defenses just a little too late for it to do them much good.

"Wynne, can you heal this man?" Loghaina asked, and knelt by Ser Elric's side.

"I can try, but his wounds are grave," Wynne said. She knelt down and blue light erupted from her hands.

The man regained consciousness, at least. He looked with bleary eyes at Loghaina's face. "I recognize you," he said in a weak voice. "You're one of the Grey Wardens."

"That's right."

"You made it out of Ostagar when others died. I…I ran, Maker forgive me. I ran with the screams in my ears and the faces of the dead in my eyes. I'll spend the last moments of my life looking back over my shoulder the way I never did then."

"It was an un-winnable battle. Do not beat yourself because you could not save them all," Loghain said.

The knight gulped breath and struggled to sit up. "I know. Even King Cailan, for all his bravado, knew there would be no victory at Ostagar. He gave to me a key to a chest in his encampment. He said that if anything were to befall him, I was to give the contents of that chest to Duncan of the Wardens. I don't know what was in it, but it must have been awfully important."

"If it were important he would have had you give it to _me," _Loghain said, in a kind of grunt.

"Do you still have this key?" Loghaina asked.

"Fate has a twisted sense of humor. If I'd kept hold of that key, it'd be in Bann Loren's hands right now."

"Bann Loren's…do you mean to say you were held _captive?"_

"Aye, for days before I managed to break free. Didn't get far, as you can see."

Loghaina looked at Loghain. "Why on earth would Bann Loren keep this man captive?"

He shook his head. "No good reason I can think of, unless he's dealing underhand. Even then I'm not sure what he could have hoped to gain."

"Favor, Your Grace," Ser Elric said. "He thought you were making a play for the throne, and thought that by keeping me from speaking out against you you'd be beholden to him."

Loghain looked taken aback. "That's preposterous. Who in their right mind would even think that? The throne belongs with my _daughter."_

"You did declare yourself Regent," Loghaina pointed out.

"That's because this is a time of war. Besides, I'm not acting as Regent _now, _am I? I left it to Anora to deal with the bloody politicians."

"Anora and that fellow Howe."

"_Teyrn _Howe," Loghain corrected. "If he can keep some of the wolves at bay for her he'll have proved his usefulness. _And_ loyalty."

Wynne finished healing Elric. He stood up on shaky legs. "Listen, I don't know what's in that chest, but it had to have been important. King Cailan wanted it to go to Duncan, but Duncan is dead. I guess that means it falls to you. I was afraid I'd lose the key on the battlefield, so I stashed it at the base of a statue near where the Circle mages had their enclave. If you go back to Ostagar for that chest…try and find King Cailan's body. Put him to rest proper."

Loghaina looked at Loghain. "Of all the places I never wanted to go back to…" she said.

"Likewise. It's awfully far out of the way, too."

"But perhaps we could go down there after we settle with the Dalish, on our way to Orzammar," she said. "It would be a detour, but the contents of that chest could be important to the nation."

He sighed. "If you think it that important, Warden. I only ask that you keep the moralizing to a minimum. From _all _quarters," he finished, with a venomous glare for Wynne.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The Brecilian Forest**

Their first day in the Brecilian Forest they found nothing but a few demon-possessed trees that attacked and had to be chopped to pieces with their blades. That necessitated a stop to sharpen said blades, and they made camp early. The sound of several blades being sharpened on several whetstones at the same time made a raspy, whispery racket that drowned out the insect life. There was little else that made noise in the forest. If there were birds, they did not sing. The silence was oppressive, unnatural. The very air felt wrong.

Loghaina worked on her twin daggers. They were not identical twins, for they had been taken off the corpses of two different guards in the Arl of Denerim's estate as she fought for her life and the lives of her friends and kin. They were serviceable blades, but she could do with a better pair, weighted for her hand. She smiled softly to herself. The thought of owning something like that specially made for her was ridiculous.

"What are you smiling about?" Alistair asked. He stood before her with his hands behind his back.

"Nothing. Just a silly thought. Did you need something?"

He hesitated, then brought his hands out from behind his back. In the palm of one he held a withered rose, the withered rose she'd seen him occasionally sniffing and stroking for days - since Lothering at least. "Do you know what this is?" he asked. It sounded very much as though his tongue might be half stuck on the roof of his mouth.

"Your new weapon of choice?" she asked, with the quirk of a grin. He laughed.

"Yes, I suppose it could be. 'Feel my thorns, Darkspawn!' Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that's rather dull by comparison."

"All right, I'll bite. Why do you have a rose, Alistair?" she asked.

"I picked it in Lothering. I saw it growing on a bush that looked more than half dead already, and I thought…well, you know, I should have left it alone, but the darkspawn would just come and destroy it, so I picked it. I remember wondering how anything so…so _pretty_ could be growing in the midst of so much death and despair."

She couldn't help but be confused. "And you're telling me this _because…?"_

"Because I thought…that I might…give it to you, actually," he said haltingly. He handed her the flower. "When I look at you, I wonder pretty much the same thing."

The rose fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers. "Alistair. I don't know what you're talking about, but I think you need to stop talking about it."

His cheeks turned red and his hazel-green eyes widened. "I…don't know what you mean."

"We're comrades-in-arms, Alistair. That is where it ends. I won't get drawn into anything complicated. Besides, I'm an _elf, _in case you missed that little detail."

"I didn't miss it, but I fail to see what difference it makes," he said.

"Really? Because I see a pretty damned big difference. You're a good man, Alistair, and I like you. But that's as far as it goes."

Wonderful. As if she didn't have enough to deal with, she now had to worry about how sentimental her fellow Warden was going to get. And worse, he'd seen at the very least her bare backside, when Loghain brought her back to camp that night. Now it would be difficult not to think of him imagining that sight and getting some sort of rise out of it. Hopefully her lady parts had been hidden by her folded legs, if she was lucky, but there was no way to know it for sure. He might have gotten quite the peek at her. She was now more worried about how that night had affected _him_ than how it had affected Loghain, who seemed utterly unaltered in his treatment of her.

He drew himself up and squared his shoulders, though his lip trembled and he seemed on the verge of tears. "It was just meant to be a compliment," he said, stiffly, "but if it offends I take it back. I'm sorry."

He marched away to the other side of the fire, and left the rose where it lie in the dirt. Loghaina felt rather badly. Perhaps it _had_ been meant as nothing more than a compliment, in which case she had overreacted and hurt his feelings to boot. But she could not take it back, and _would _not. It was better he get his feelings hurt a little now than a lot later on.

She put away her whetstone, tucked her blades into their scabbards, picked up the rose, and stood. She crossed to where Alistair sat and held it out to him.

"You'd better have this back," she said.

"Keep it," he said, rather fiercely. "Or throw it into the fire. It makes no never-mind to me."

She dropped her hand, as if the fading flower were suddenly heavy. She tried to lift it in offering several times, but her arm would not come up. She chuffed a breath out of her nose and turned back towards the campfire. She tossed the flower into the flames. She had no use for a flower, or the sentiments attached to it. She went back to her side of the campfire and sat down with her legs folded under her.

Loghain came up to her. He jerked his head in the direction of the woods. "Walk with me," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm going to find water. You seem to have a predilection for it, so I'm hoping you can hone in on it for us. Besides, it isn't safe to walk the woods alone. I need backup." She stood and followed him into the trees.

"You know, if you wanted to cut the boy's heart out, it might have been kinder to do so with your dagger, Warden," he said, once they were well away from camp. "When that flower went up in flames, I think a piece of his soul went with it."

"I didn't ask him to make matters complicated," she said. He laughed humorlessly.

"Matters _are_ complicated. He's a handsome young man, you're a pretty young woman. You've been thrown together by dire circumstances. It's understandable that he'd develop feelings. Intense situations breed equally intense emotions. The only wonder is that you don't feel likewise. Or do you?"

"He's _not _my type, if that's what you mean."

"Human, you mean?"

"Exactly."

"So if he were a handsome young _elf_, you'd have been flattered to receive a sentimental posy from him?"

"Well, no. I…I can't afford to buy that kind of trouble right now. Human or elf or what have you."

He chuckled again. "Hasn't stopped young people throughout history from buying more trouble than they can afford. I hope you're sure of yourself, Warden. I am heartened to think perhaps you are that one wise soul who can resist the allure of romance in trying times."

"That _one? _I take it then that you yourself were unable to resist?" she said.

"Ha! Caught me, didn't you? It's true, I've been as big a fool as any other young fool. Fortunately I am now too _old_ to be a young fool, which is the one saving grace about getting old."

"Who was she?" she asked. She couldn't help herself.

"A woman I fought with." The ghost of a smile curved his mouth. "And occasionally alongside."

"It wasn't my mother, was it?"

He stopped, and stared hard at her. "Good heavens, no. Whatever gave you the idea it might be?"

"Mother had a reputation for being a little wild," she said, as casually as she could. "And she did name me after you. And you…you remembered her eyes."

"I remember the eyes of all my soldiers," he said. His voice sounded strange, distant. "They follow me into sleep."

She looked closely at him. He wasn't looking at her, but off into some middle distance. He looked haunted. She thought he probably was. More now than ever before, likely. The eyes of the hundreds of men who died at Ostagar were probably the reason he spent so very little time sleeping in his tent, and so much on watch. She touched his arm.

"I'm sorry," she said.

His eyes flicked to her, and he looked momentarily surprised to see her. He cleared his throat noisily. "Right. Well. Let's get moving, shall we?"

He walked on, and she followed him. She stared at his broad back and wondered what it must be like, to know that everyone had great expectations of you, that you were expected to be the hero and save the day, time after time, tirelessly…and to know there would be little forgiveness for you if you failed. It was a burden she didn't want to have to bear herself.

"Why did you declare yourself Regent?" she asked. She'd wondered that before, but now it seemed like quite the burden to shoulder after the burden of all those lives he disappointed with his failure to charge.

"Ay? With no king to hold the throne, I knew the wolves of the Landsmeet would descend upon Anora. I'd rather they descended upon me. She's too young to have to deal with all this madness."

"She's in her twenties, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"But she's too young? How old were you when _you_ first took up the burden of this nation?" she asked.

"_Too _young. Too young by half and half again."

"You don't trust your daughter?"

"Of course I trust her."

"Just not with your country."

He sighed in exasperation. "Of _course_ I trust her with my country. I left her, didn't I? To come on this wild goose chase with you."

"But you're still Regent, even though you're no longer acting as one."

"If things go badly, then people will blame me. Should it be otherwise?"

"I was just curious. You seem to have little regard for the abilities of young people, and yet…you leave this mission up to me."

"It was your idea, Warden. Don't think I'll let you make too many bad decisions. Ferelden is counting on you."

They came to a small stream, and Loghain knelt to fill the water bucket. "There. Let's get back to camp; it's my turn to do the cooking."

"It's Leliana's turn," Loghaina said.

"You think I'm eating food cooked by an _Orlesian bard? _You're off your twig, Warden."

They returned to camp, where Loghain gruffly pushed Leliana aside and began working at the campfire to cook their dinner. Morrigan came up to Loghaina and spoke to her.

"I have something to tell you," she said. "Come with me to my campfire, please."

Loghaina followed her. "What's this about, Morrigan?" she asked.

"When we were in the Circle tower, I found something." She held up a thick, leather-bound book.

"You _stole_ something, you mean," Loghaina said. "I see Alistair was right."

"To be accurate, I stole something _back, _something that was stolen from my mother long years ago. And don't make too much of Alistair being right about something. Even the dimmest wit stands a good chance of being correct about something _once _in life, by the purest accident."

"So what's in this book of your mother's?" Loghaina asked.

"I had hoped it would be a book of spells, by which I could learn some of her greater powers. But that is not so. What I found instead was a detailed description of the means by which she has achieved her unnaturally long life."

"Well that sounds useful."

"Only if you're keen on the idea of taking young women and possessing their bodies. That is what she intends for _me_. I am meant to be her next victim."

"You are certain? What do you intend to do about it?"

"She must be killed, and I must not be present when it is done. Will you do this for me? Will you kill my mother?"

"If that's what needs to happen, yes. We can take care of it on our way back to Ostagar."

Morrigan heaved a sigh of relief. "I am grateful. Now, I do not believe that even death will stop her indefinitely, but what I need is her _true _grimoire, the book that contains her magic powers. With it I can protect myself. It must be in the hut. Kill her, and get the book for me."

"It will be done."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: The Dalish Trail**

Loghain's tracking skills were as good for finding elves as they were for finding game. On the second day they came upon what he swore was a "Dalish path," though it didn't look like much to Loghaina or, apparently, any of the others except perhaps Sten, who remained inscrutable as always, and Gravy, who sniffed the pathway with enthusiasm.

Loghain knelt down by the tracks, and observed them closely. "They're headed southwest," he said. "The tracks are not too fresh. Hopefully they've made camp to abide a while, so we can catch up to them."

"Do they generally stay in one place for long?" Loghaina asked.

"Can't say as I know."

"Doesn't the Brecilian Forest fall under Gwaren's dominion?" Alistair asked, snottily. "How is it you don't know what goes on in your own lands?"

"For one thing, I treat the Dalish like I treat any dangerous wild creature: with great respect for their space. For another, sending regular patrols through the Brecilian is a good way to run yourself out of guardsmen."

"Dalish are _creatures?" _Loghaina asked.

"As are all of us. There is no animal more dangerous than a smart one, whether it be human, elf, dwarf, or Qunari. The Dalish don't bow to me: in some respects I bow to them. They pass through what are _nominally _my lands and I let them be for one thing is certain, they were there first. I don't dispute their rights to the land, though there are plenty in my holdings who wish I would."

"I am not an animal," she said.

"Sure you are. We all of us are. We may try to raise ourselves above it and some of us maybe succeed, but at our meanest and most basic, we're no more than beasts. Smart ones, but beasts. And one thing is certain," he said, with a scratch for Gravy's ears, "I'd sooner have a smart dog over a stupid human any day."

"Likewise," Loghaina said, with the quirk of a grin.

"Left myself open for that one."

They followed the winding track through the woods until it started getting late, at which point they found a decent campsite near a freshwater spring. They were almost done with their brought food supplies, so Leliana said she would go hunting. After setting up her tent and seeing to the campfire, Loghaina slipped away towards the spring-fed pond.

She took the precaution of building a small campfire nearby, then undressed and slipped into the clear, cold water. It was just the right temperature, as far as she was concerned, cold but not _killingly _so. She swam for several minutes of blissful peacefulness before the near-silence was broken by an almost expected voice.

"Are you daft, woman? Somehow I knew I'd find you up to your neck in cold water again."

She tossed back her wet hair and grinned at Loghain. "This water is perfect, thank you."

He jerked his chin at her. "Hold up one of your hands."

She did so.

"Hmph. Thought it might be webbed. You spend more time in the water than a duck."

"Why are you always checking up on me?" she asked.

"Wondering what new devilry you're up to, Warden, is a full-time occupation."

"I'm not that bad, am I?" She splashed water at him.

"Sometimes you're worse. Now why don't you get out of there?"

"Better idea:" she said, feeling unaccountably playful. "Why don't you come in?"

"Me. Jump into ice-cold water. With you?" he said. He snorted an unbecoming laugh. "Now I _know_ you're off your rocker."

"It's not that cold, and the fire's going strong. What are you afraid of?"

He gazed at her with his head cocked at a speculative angle for a long moment. Finally he said, "I must be barking," and began to divest himself of his armor. She laughed and ducked under the water for a moment, and fountained a gush of it out of her mouth when she rose again.

She didn't know why she felt safe trusting him this far. She liked him. He could be infuriating, but she liked him regardless. And swimming was more fun when there was someone to splash with. The others might start talking, but let them. _She_ knew there was nothing to it, and she was fairly certain that he knew it, too. As long as that was true, there was no harm in it.

His last piece of armor dropped to the ground and he peeled off his blouse. "I'd thank you to look away, Warden," he said. "My anatomy is not prepossessing, but if you insist upon modesty then so too do I."

She turned around obediently. She was tempted to take a peek, to feel what it was to be the one in charge, for a change, but she didn't do it. She heard him dive in and come up spitting.

"You can look now. Even if you could see anything, there is now absolutely nothing to be seen in this frigid water," he said.

She turned around. "You don't like cold water?" she asked.

"It's invigorating, to say the least. Has an unfortunate side-effect you as a woman don't have to worry about, however."

She dove under the surface again and came up on the other side of him. "I love it. Always have. Of course, cold water is the only kind of water you can find in an alienage. Do you do a lot of swimming for pleasure yourself?"

"Not really."

"Do you do much of _anything_ for pleasure?"

"Ha. Not really. Always too much work to do."

"Really? That's rather sad, actually. Don't you _read_ for enjoyment's sake?"

"No. Too many things to read for business' sake."

"Well, then, surely you ride to the hunt. That's something nobles do, isn't it?"

"The only times I hunt are when I _need _to hunt in order to eat."

"Jousting? Tournaments?"

"You have only the vaguest notion what noblemen get up to, don't you? And no, I get quite enough genuine warfare. I don't need to pretend at it."

"The only thing I _know_ noblemen get up to is the thing that necessitated I murder one of them," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you speaking of what happened to the Arl of Denerim's son?"

"Yes. He kidnapped me, my cousin, and several other girls on my wedding day. He and his friends raped my cousin, and one of the girls was killed. I killed his guards, his friends, and him - with a little help from my other cousin and my would-be husband. Nelaros. He was killed, too."

"I'm sorry. Just so you know, not _every _nobleman gets up to things like that."

"I probably would never have believed that, if I'd never met you."

"Well, thank you, but I'm hardly a shining example of the best in anybody."

"I don't know about that. You're one of the very few good humans I've ever met."

"You say that even knowing what I did?"

"At Ostagar? I saw it coming. We were years late with the signal, and it was obvious you didn't trust the Grey Wardens. In your position, I probably would have done the same thing, even if I do regret your decision. Frankly, I'm of the opinion that you have your own regrets."

"A lot of good men died. I would do the same thing again, regardless. That field was overrun. And _you, _Warden, are turning an interesting shade of blue."

She grinned. "I suppose that means it's time to get out. No peeking."

He turned around. "After you, milady."

She climbed out and dried herself off, then slipped into her blouse and trousers. Then she sat by the fire with her head turned while he climbed out of the water and dried himself. He put on his trousers but left his blouse off, and sat down to warm up and finish drying. She couldn't help staring at his chest. He might be getting on in years, but he still had a hell of a physique.

"Well, that was refreshing, Warden," he said. "I never would have done it if you hadn't goaded me into it. At the very least I feel as if I've washed off half a hundredweight of road dirt."

"I wish you'd stop calling me that. I have a name, you know."

"I do know, but I do not feel that I could call _anyone_ by it. My apologies."

"Then at least call me Tabris," she said.

"Tabris it is, then."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Outskirts**

"Hold, Outsider. You may be of our kind but you are _not _Dalish. What business have you here?"

"I am a Grey Warden. I need to speak with your leader," Loghaina said. She observed the blonde elven woman carefully, and not just because she was backed by a number of elves with drawn bows. This was the first Dalish she had ever seen, and she couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Except for the tattoos, she just looked like an ordinary elf.

"A Grey Warden?" The woman looked indecisive for a moment, then she said, "Very well, then. Follow, but know our bows are trained on you and your party with every step."

"Charming people, aren't they?" Alistair said.

"Hush," Loghaina said. "They have no reason to trust us, and plenty of reasons not to."

"Like _what _reasons?"

"Like the reason that five in our party are human. It would be reason enough for _me."_

"Tell me truthfully: are humans really that bad?" Alistair asked.

"Do you _really _want an honest answer to that?" she said.

"I suppose not."

They followed their reluctant guide to a tall, bald-headed elven man in flowing robes.

"Keeper, this woman claims to be a Grey Warden. I thought it best to leave the matter in your hands."

"You did well, Mithras. Well, Grey Warden, if you've come to bring us word of the Blight, I have already felt the disturbance in the south. I would have taken my clan north a long time ago, but as you may be able to discern, we are in no condition to go anywhere," the Keeper said.

"I saw your infirmary set-up as we came in to your camp. There is sickness here?" Loghaina asked.

"In a sense. We have been attacked. The victims of this attack are very ill and desperately in need of a cure."

"Darkspawn?" she asked, alarmed.

"No. Werewolves."

She shook her head vigorously. "You'd better tell me what happened exactly."

"There is a clan of werewolves that make their home here in the Brecilian Forest. We've known of their existence a very long time, but they have always left us alone until now. A few days ago, our camp was attacked. Many of my hunters were killed, and many more were injured. The injured ones are at risk of becoming werewolves themselves, the curse communicated through the monsters' teeth and claws. Several have already turned, and had to be destroyed."

"Is there any way to break this curse?" Loghaina asked.

"I have sent hunters into the woods. They must find the great wolf, Witherfang, and bring me its heart. With it I can save my people. But…the hunters have not returned. I fear they have met with misfortune."

"Let me confer with my people for a moment, Keeper," Loghaina said. She turned toward the others and gestured to them to form a huddle. "I think we must help these people," she said. "This curse sounds like something that could easily become an epidemic if it isn't stopped, and we'll never get the Dalish to join with us if they remain cursed. Any objections?"

Gravy barked, perhaps saying he liked the idea of people turning into canines, but no one else had anything to say against the plan. Loghaina turned back to the Keeper.

"My people and I will make camp, with your permission, and in the morning, we will hunt this Witherfang for you," she said. "We would not like to see this curse take any more lives."

The Keeper seemed surprised. "Your aid would be most welcome," he said. "I have been remiss: my name is Keeper Zathrian."

"I am Loghaina Tabris," Loghaina said. She pointed out each of her fellows in turn. "My companions are my hound, Gravy, my fellow Grey Warden, Alistair, Sister Leliana of the Chantry, Wynne of the Circle of Magi, Morrigan of the Wilds, Sten of the Beresaad, and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir of Gwaren."

Zathrian seemed ruffled. "You bear a derivation of the same name as this human. A coincidence?"

"No. My mother named me after him. She fought for him in the Ferelden army years ago."

That seemed to ruffle him more. _"Teyrn _of Gwaren. I am familiar with the title. Gwaren is one of the few places I will allow my traders to go. The merchants there do not try to cheat us as badly as they do in most other places."

"That's Gwaren. _'Reasonably _honest,'" Loghain said.

"You may make your camp on the edge of the clearing, where there is space for you. I invite you and your party to break bread with my clan tonight. We have had more than our share of misfortune, but the hunting has been good."

"Thank you, Keeper. It would be an honor," Loghaina said.

And so that night they took dinner with the Dalish, despite the suspicious glares the humans in the party received from the elves, no less so Zathrian himself. The first course was a sort of bark of grains, berries, and nuts pressed together with a glue of hardened syrup. It was surprisingly tasty, but Loghaina wondered where they got the grain from. They were clearly not farmers. Perhaps a few of the elves who went through the fields after the harvest, gleaning what they could from what was left behind, were Dalish, with tattooed faces. It was a depressing thought, that even these wild, seemingly self-sufficient creatures were partly dependant on humans.

Next came stone-baked flatbreads and a thin gravy to dip them in. It reminded Loghaina of her mother's cooking, and when the main course was served she stuck to the flatbreads and gravy for a time, with her own small bowl in hand to dip from.

"You're missing out, Tabris," Loghain said. "This venison is delicious. Try a piece."

He tore a chunk of herb-stuffed venison from his own portion, and held it out to her. With both hands occupied with bread and bowl, she simply opened her mouth and let him place it on her tongue. She closed her eyes and savored the rich herb flavors roasted into the meat.

When she opened her eyes again she was unsurprised to find her party looking at her with varied expressions of disgruntlement, the same way they'd looked at her every time she _spoke_ to Loghain after the swimming incident. To her surprise, however, the Dalish, too, were glaring at her with clear affront in their eyes. She was bewildered, momentarily, for she did not know what she had done that could have caused offense.

A muscle in Zathrian's jaw twitched as he spoke. "Forgive me; you seem rather…_intimate_…with the Teyrn."

Intimate? Well, maybe she shouldn't have sucked his fingers, but the meat was so tasty she hadn't wanted to miss out on any of it. _He _didn't seem fazed by it. Why was everybody else up in arms about it? Maybe it wasn't particularly hygienic, but she'd come to worry about such things less and less on this journey.

"I'm _human," _Loghain said, seeing her confusion. "To them, you just did something more disgusting than if you'd picked up one of Gravy's droppings and eaten it."

Alistair dropped his food back onto his plate. "Well, that does it for me."

It was Loghaina's turn to feel affronted. She had a right to be friends with whoever deserved her friendship, whether they were human, elf, or whatever.

"The Teyrn is my friend," she said, with her own twitchy jaw muscle. "We are as _intimate _as friendship allows."

"I see," Zathrian said, although she was fairly certain he didn't. Seized with a distinct sense of contrariness, Loghaina felt like rubbing the fact of her human friends in the faces of these stuck-up elves, but restrained herself. It wasn't that long ago she would have looked upon an elven girl eating food from the hand of a human man with the same judgmental eyes. She was a little surprised at the ease with which her prejudices had softened, in truth.

"Not all humans are bad people," she said. "A fact I only recently learned."

"If you say so, Warden," Zathrian said.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: The Werewolves' Trail**

"I understand why you are attracted to him."

Loghaina looked at Leliana, who was sitting watch with her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Teyrn Loghain. I understand why you are attracted to him. He is very powerful, yes? I don't even mean politically, he is _physically_ powerful, and that is attractive. Then, too, you seem to have much in common, in the way you look at things and solve problems. You are both very practical, to the point of being harsh. I am surprised you would choose him over Alistair, who is closer to your age and so very handsome, but I understand."

"I haven't chosen…I am not attracted to Loghain."

"Oh? It seemed very much otherwise, when he had his fingers in your mouth," Leliana said, with an impish grin. "I do not believe roast venison could put that look of sheer ecstasy on a woman's face."

"It was very tasty roast venison. Commons have been a little unsavory lately, if you haven't noticed."

"Hmm. Well, if you insist, it was the venison." Leliana giggled. "But I notice you didn't seem to savor it so much when you were eating your _own_ helping."

"After a few bites, it was like a taste overload. I'm not used to rich foods. We don't eat that well in the alienage."

"Was it very terrible, living in the alienage?" Leliana asked. "In Orlais, many elven servants live in the homes of their masters, in great luxury. Some of them even have servants of their own. They are prized, for they are nimble and dexterous, and pleasing to look at."

"Like a lapdog," Loghaina said, with false brightness.

"What? No! Oh, my words were clumsily chosen. I did not mean to cause offense."

"You don't even realize it, your prejudices are so ingrained. You think you treat elves as equals, but you've been conditioned to see us more as talking objects than as people. It's not even your fault."

"I never imagined…perhaps you are right. I thank you, Warden. You have given me much to think about."

Loghaina continued in a moderated tone. "I would not have lived in luxury, for I was never a servant. I carried buckets and tools for the workers on the docks. I would have gone to work as a dockworker myself after my marriage, had it worked out that way. My father is a servant, to a wealthy merchant. And my mother…she was a housemaid in the Arl of Denerim's home. Until she was jailed, for what reason we never discovered, and killed. It was why my father would rather I worked as a laborer than as a housemaid myself. Dockworkers lead dangerous lives, but they usually aren't killed on a whim of their employer's."

"That is terrible," Leliana said. "I am so sorry."

"They said she was killed trying to escape," Loghaina said. It was as though she couldn't stop talking about it, now that she'd started. "Someone tore a path through the Arl's guards and let all the prisoners out, but I don't think any of them escaped. And my mother died, in the Arl's dank dungeons, on the sword of some Hard Line bastard, probably for the dread offense of missing a spot on the Arl's velvet carpet."

Leliana's eyes were wide and huge. "That's…that's terrible," she repeated. She looked very uncomfortable, like she was sitting on a pinecone.

Sten came up then to relieve them of watch duty, and the women went to bed. Loghaina lay awake a long time, and thought about her mother. To put it from her mind, she tried to turn her thoughts down other channels.

She thought about Loghain. She wondered again if her mother hadn't been a little bit in love with him. He might have been telling the truth when he said he'd felt no attraction to her, but that didn't mean the reverse was true. Certainly she had always wondered why she had been named for a human, of all people. Perhaps she would ask her father the next time she got a chance to see him, if it wouldn't be too hurtful for him to speak of. Adaia was rarely mentioned in the Tabris household these days.

Thoughts of Loghain led her back to all the fuss everyone was making. She told herself she didn't care what the others thought, and yet she couldn't help dwelling on it. The worst part was, she wasn't entirely certain they weren't right. He was human, and he was much older…but she felt a connection with him that she'd never felt before. She didn't know whether she was exactly attracted to _him, _but that sense of connection was certainly attractive. Andraste's ass, why did things always have to get more complicated?

She tried to imagine him as an elf. What would she think about these feelings if he were the same race as she? She couldn't picture him short and willowy, with pointed ears. He was too ineffably human for that. Too tall, too muscular, too strong in the features. Too _blunt, _physically and in terms of personality. An elf who acted that way would be beaten to death in short order. He was lucky he was human; he'd never get away with being his irascible self if he were an elf. Not in public, at least, and she couldn't imagine him ever being deferential, to anybody. He was a man who bawled out kings when they had it coming.

With these thoughts curving her mouth into a smile she at last fell asleep, and woke in the morning not having dreamed that she could remember, a welcome change from the normal. They breakfasted on biscuits and honey, and headed out into the woods to hunt werewolves.

They wound their way through the forest's twisted pathways, and fought off Blight-maddened animals and darkspawn alike. They fought werewolves, great beasts that ran about on four legs and stood on two, and spoke to them in growling voices. That the werewolves were intelligent was a surprise, and not a pleasant one. Loghaina began to feel that she had been left in the dark on some important points.

They continued to fight their way forward. During the times they didn't have foes to deal with, Loghaina caught herself watching Loghain, trying to catch a glimpse of the truth of her feelings in the grim set of his mouth or the movement of his shoulders. Sometimes she caught herself doing that even when there _were _foes to deal with. It was while they were fighting another small group of werewolves that a beam of sunlight filtered down through the leaves of the trees and caught him right in the eye, and turned the pale smoky blue to a glacial shade of near-white. Loghaina was so struck by the pride and ferocity she saw in that eye that she dropped her guard.

A wolf leapt for her, but before it could strike a big kite shield dropped down in front of her, and Loghain's sword struck out around the side of her. She was in his arms again, though not exactly held, and it was exciting, even though he bawled in her ear.

"What's the matter with you, woman?" he said. "Are you _trying_ to get killed?"

She kept her attention to business after that, as best she could, but her mind churned with uncomfortable thoughts. She had wanted to avoid entanglements, complications. Suddenly things were very complicated. After having spent her life dodging humans because of the way they treated her kind, did she really feel this way about one of them? She knew what his fingers tasted like; she now had a strong desire to find out what his _mouth _tasted like.

They followed werewolf tracks to a place where an unnatural fog blocked the path. They pressed onward, only to find themselves back in the place they'd begun. They tried again, with the same result.

"There is magic behind this," Morrigan said.

"Let's look for another path," Loghaina said.

They followed another twisting track nearby, but it curved away from where the werewolves were headed.

"This isn't going our direction," Loghain said. "We're getting nowhere."

"Let's go back to the fogged-in place and see if we can't get around it," Loghaina said.

They did so, and though the gully had steep sides, they managed to climb up and around the blocked portion of the path. The werewolves attacked shortly after they regained the path, but when Loghaina moved to strike down the leader of the pack a great, white wolf bounded out of the trees and knocked her down. The werewolves backed away, with the great wolf at their fore, and then they turned and raced away toward a nearby ruin.

"That's their hideout," Loghaina said, as she climbed to her feet and dusted herself off. "We're almost there."

"That creature was Witherfang," Loghain said.

"I know."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Ruins**

"I think we need to huddle up in the middle here, for a minute," Loghain said, as they reached the entrance to the ruins. "Some things just aren't right."

"What do you mean?" Loghaina asked.

"These creatures, they're intelligent. The Keeper didn't mention anything about that, and I don't much appreciate being left in the dark. And then this Witherfang. It could have killed you, just now, but it didn't. I want to know why."

"As to the first thing, perhaps Zathrian didn't know. As to the second, who knows? Maybe it was afraid of the size of our group."

"It had five werewolves at its back," Loghain said. "We might have had them outnumbered, slightly, but they're fierce fighters. It doesn't make sense. I smell an Orlesian in the woodpile."

"Charming expression," Leliana said.

"My point is that there seems to be something we're missing. That one that acts as leader, he said some things about the Dalish that lead me to think this attack might not have been unprovoked."

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Loghaina said. "The elves need a cure for the curse. _We_ may need that cure. Leliana's been bitten, and so has Sten and Alistair's been scratched. I wouldn't like to see any of us turn into one of these beasts. We kill Witherfang, and Zathrian can keep that from happening."

"True. Perhaps I'm letting my curiosity get the better of me," Loghain said. "We'll do it your way, Fearless Leader. Proceed."

She led the way down into the ruin, which was mostly subterranean. It was a strange place; what appeared to be human architecture, but of a design none of them had ever seen before. It was not Avvar or Tevinter.

There was no time for sightseeing. A pair of werewolves came running up out of a side passage and attacked. They fought them and killed them, and headed down the corridor they came up. It was a long stairwell that led to a door, and the door was barred on the other side. Loghain and Sten put their shoulders to it, but it would not budge.

"I guess we're not going that way," Loghaina said.

"Not unless we can find a handy battering ram," Loghain said. "Let's hope there's another route."

Loghaina went back up the stairs and further into the ruin, with the others at her heels. There were giant spiders in the corridors beyond, great stinking things that left her blades coated with green slime. Down another stairwell a great echoing roar forewarned the necessity of caution and they proceeded slowly down the stairs and around the corner.

With a rush of wings, a small adult dragon, one in the wandering stage of development, descended upon the party and spewed a long flame that would have roasted Loghaina alive if not for the intervention of Loghain's shield. He was so quick to step between her and danger. She wondered if that was just the way he was, or if there was some other reason behind it. He bashed the creature in the face and slashed at its long neck with his sword. Sten ran forward and chopped its head off with his greatsword.

"Everybody still in one piece?" Loghain asked.

"We're okay," Loghaina said, after a quick assessing glance at the rest of the party. Gravy had a bald patch on his shoulder where the fur burned off, but the red, irritated skin was easily treated with an elfroot poultice, which she applied immediately.

"There's a tunnel ahead," Loghain said, with a nod in that direction. "Don't think I ever heard dragons were diggers. Maybe the werewolves dug it out. Maybe it'll lead us to their lair."

"Well, we can hope so, at any rate," Loghaina said. They continued forward, into corridors filled with the undead. The ruin wound its way through the underground, amidst the tangled roots of ancient trees that had breached the structure. Finally they found their way to a grand chamber, where an arcane horror - the abomination of a long-dead mage with powerful magics - awaited them. Although it was not strong against their physical attacks, dealing with it left them all battered and drained.

"Rest, while we have the chance," Loghaina said. "Alistair, break out our provisions. Let's have a bite to eat."

"Eats! I'm starved," he said, and dug into his pack. All they carried was some jerky and dried fruit, but it helped to revitalize them after the ordeal with the dead mage. They explored the side passages, but it seemed very much as though they had come to a dead end.

Loghaina stared at the pool of water that lay in one dead end passage. "Look away, please," she said, and when they were all looking in the opposite direction she stripped down to her smallclothes and jumped in. It was about five feet deep, and she found an underwater tunnel which she followed.

In a few minutes she was back. "There's a tunnel that leads to another chamber. Its only about twenty feet long."

"What made you think it would be there, Duckie?" Loghain asked.

She grinned at him. "An utter inability to accept the idea we'd come all this way for nothing. We're going to be wet and cold the rest of the way, but we're going to find the werewolves."

She grabbed her clothes and ducked back under the water. Her companions, either hampered by their own armor or by courtesy, gave her enough time to dress in the wet leather before they came popping up one by one from the pool. Gravy shook himself vigorously, which sprayed water everywhere, but of all of them he was faring the best, for his fur was fairly watertight and he would dry quickest. Poor Morrigan looked like a drowned bird with her wet feathers.

Loghain, in by far the heaviest armor, came up last. He couldn't have swum in the massive silverite plate, so presumably he had crawled through the low tunnel. He took a great gulp of air to refill his lungs. He seemed to have incredible capacity, which was lucky for him in this instance.

"Well, now that everyone is sufficiently miserable, what say we move on before we freeze to death?" he said, after shifting his armor enough to drain it of several gallons of water.

"I'm not…feeling…very well," Leliana said. She reeled and crumpled to the floor.

Loghaina dropped to her side and lifted her head. The woman's eyes fluttered, then opened. What once had been green was now golden.

"Shit. She's turning," Loghaina said. "We don't have much time left."

"Best to leave her here, then," Loghain said. When Loghaina made to argue with him, he held up a hand. "She can't fight in her condition. We leave her here where it's relatively safe and clear out the path ahead so it stays that way. We deal with Witherfang and come back and collect her before heading back to Zathrian for the cure."

"You're right. There's a blanket in my pack. It should be dry; my pack's an oilskin. I'll get her out of these wet leathers and wrap her up to keep her warm. We have to move quickly, though."

Properly bundled, Leliana was left to rest while the others pushed onward with a greater sense of urgency. There were more undead, and more werewolves attacked - a good sign they were close to the lair. Finally they came to a chamber filled with werewolves. One of them spoke.

"Rrrr…Peace! The Lady of the Forest wishes to parley with you."

"We don't have the luxury of talking," Loghaina said. "One of our number is ill with this curse of yours, and we intend to see her cured if we have to slaughter every werewolf in the forest to do it."

"The Lady knows of a way to break the curse. For everyone. Zathrian would have you kill her so that he may save only his people and no more. He would not waste cure on a human."

"Is that so? Then take me to this Lady. We'll talk, if she really has something worthwhile to say."

"Rrrrr…follow, but know that if you attempt to harm her, we will tear you to pieces."

The werewolf led them down into another chamber, quite overgrown with roots. Another group of werewolves stood there, along with the leader from the forest, and a pale-skinned, dark-eyed woman with long black hair and vines twining around her nether limbs. She was otherwise quite naked, and looked otherworldly.

"I thank you for coming to speak with me," the woman said, and her voice echoed oddly. "I am the Lady of the Forest."

"Your gatekeeper told me you know of a sure way to break the curse," Loghaina said. "One Zathrian would not withhold to my friend."

"One Zathrian _cannot_ withhold," the Lady corrected. "He claimed that he can end the curse with the heart of Witherfang, but this is not true. With the heart, he can create a potion that will cure those he chooses to administer it to. But he holds it in his power to break the curse on all who suffer. He is the only one who can, for he is the one who leveled this curse in the first place. That is what we seek. An end to the curse, and to our suffering."

"So you attacked the clan to force this? Tell me your tale."

The leader of the werewolves started forward. "Rrrrr! My Lady, do not listen to her! She will betray you!"

"Hush, Swiftrunner," the Lady said. "Your rage has already seen the deaths of many of your kindred. Would you have more bloodshed?"

Swiftrunner bowed. "No, my Lady. Anything but that."

"Forgive him. He struggles with his bestial nature," the Lady said. "Zathrian's tale, and the tale of our cursed brethren, began long ago."

She told the story, the rape of Zathrian's daughter, the murder of his son. How his daughter took her own life rather than bear the child conceived in that rape. How he cursed the humans, taking a bound spirit and placing it within the form of a great wolf, Witherfang."

"The humans deserved what they got," Loghaina said.

"That may well be true, but now it is their descendants who suffer, and all who fall afoul of our curse through misfortune. If there was justice in this, it has run its course. Now all that remains is vengeance, and we will see it wreaked upon Zathrian if we must suffer longer beneath this terrible curse. Go to him, and tell him that if he does not break the curse, he will never see Witherfang again, and his people will learn of the suffering we have endured these many centuries."

"All right. We will speak to him."

"Bring him here. If he will break the curse, I will summon Witherfang," the Lady said.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Dark Space Inside a Cold Heart**

Zathrian was waiting for them, on the other side of the once-barred door that led out of the werewolves' lair. He didn't seem surprised to see them, and somehow, Loghaina wasn't terribly surprised to see him.

"Keeper," she said. "I think we need to talk."

"Do you have the heart?" he asked.

"No, and I'm led to believe you don't need it. Why didn't you tell me that you are the one who foisted this curse upon the werewolves in the first place? After so many centuries, can't you see that your vengeance is only going to hurt your own people if you allow this to persist?"

His eyes narrowed. "So she told you. Did she also tell you that she, herself, is Witherfang?"

"She didn't need to. I kind of figured it out when I saw that they both had vines on their legs. What difference does that make? If you do not break the curse on these werewolves, they'll keep attacking Dalish. Your clan, any clan they can get their claws into. The Dalish in Ferelden could well go extinct, turned into werewolves, all because of your need to punish people long dead. And then it will spread to the human settlements, and soon Ferelden will be nothing but a land of werewolves."

"I can protect my people from the curse. If it should spread to the human settlements, so much the better."

"You've done a real bang-up job of protecting your people so far, and I'm not going to let this curse spread any further than its already gone. You'll break the curse, or I'll make you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" he asked. "You are elf-kind. You know what monsters humans are. Do you think your friends are the example of what passes for _normal _in human society? Because I do not. They are savages, beasts. They deserve this and worse."

"When someone wrongs you, you kill them. You don't give them strength and power," Loghaina said. "Your idea of justice was wrongheaded from the start. Now one of my friends is turning, and I will make you put things right."

Zathrian raised his staff. Loghaina and the others raised their weapons.

"So be it, then. I will show you my concept of justice," Zathrian said, with a snakeish hiss. His hands glowed purple with magic.

"Remember: we need him alive," Loghaina said to her friends as they attacked. Loghain let his shield be his weapon, and bashed the mage in the chest, knocking him off his feet. Sten swung with the flat of his blade, and when it connected there was the crunch of breaking bones. Loghaina and the mages stood back and let the heavy hitters do the work of beating Zathrian into submission. Despite his powerful magics, it did not take long.

"Please. No more," Zathrian pleaded, broken and bloody on the floor of the ruin. Alistair had to drag Gravy off of him, but the hound sat quietly once he realized the battle was over.

"I'm sorry we had to do this, Keeper," Loghaina said. "I feel for what you lost, but I cannot let this continue. Will you break the curse?"

"I…I shall."

"Wynne, can you help him?" Loghaina asked.

"I will try. That was…quite a beating." She knelt beside him and healing light poured out of her hands. Some of his wounds closed.

"You beat me…and then you heal me. How strange you are, Warden. You will take me before these werewolves now, I expect? What if it is truly revenge they want, and not an end to the curse? Will you _protect _me?" Zathrian asked.

"Of course. But I believe that they want an end to their suffering. Whatever they want, the curse must be broken. No more lives can be lost to this."

Loghain knelt down and gathered Zathrian into his arms. He picked him up and carried him down the stairs to the lair of the werewolves as gently as if, not a moment before, he hadn't beaten the man to a bloody pulp.

"I see that Zathrian did not wish to come. I am sorry it came to this, but we appreciate your initiative. Will he break the curse now?" the Lady asked.

"He will," Loghaina said. "This _must _be ended, for the sake of all."

"You know, Spirit, what will happen when the curse is broken. Are you prepared to accept that?" Zathrian asked.

"Wholeheartedly. Are you?"

"I am…alive beyond my time. Perhaps in what comes next, I will find the peace I never had in this life."

"I pray that is true," the Lady said. "Please, give my people their own peace. And your own people as well."

"And so let it end," Zathrian said. He took a small blade from his belt and sliced the palm of his hand. Blood gushed out in a spray, as if he'd cut a major artery, and power flowed from the blood. The werewolves were all caught in a bright light. The Lady of the Forest vanished, and Zathrian lay dead. What once were werewolves stood in open-mouthed amazement as they looked down at their naked, human bodies.

"Blood magic," Alistair said, with a bit of a sneer in his voice. "Should've known. How else could he have kept himself alive for centuries?"

"What are we going to do with the naked folk?" Loghain asked.

"You. You're Swiftrunner, aren't you?" Loghaina asked of the tallest man among them, and tried not to stare at his naked flesh. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, I suppose we should try and find a settlement, fit ourselves into human society. It should be interesting, should it not?" With a few words of thanks, Swiftrunner and the used-to-be werewolves ran off. They were almost as fleet of foot as humans as they had been as wolves.

"I think it should be _very _interesting, them rejoining human society. I pity the settlement that has to cope with the sudden influx of naked people," Alistair said.

"At least they have initiative, so we don't have to deal with them. I didn't save them to babysit them; the important thing is they aren't dangerous any longer," Loghaina said.

"Speaking of babysitting," Morrigan said. "I expect we should be getting back to the annoying Chantry sister. If Zathrian's curse is truly broken, she should be her old, irritating self again. Frankly, I think I would have preferred her as a werewolf."

They started back in that direction, but Leliana met them halfway. She'd dressed again, and carried the blanked around her shoulders. Her eyes were pale blue, paler even than Loghain's.

"Are you feeling better?" Loghaina asked.

"Much," Leliana said. "I was in such pain, it was unbelievable. I thought I would die."

"Too bad you were wrong," Morrigan said.

"Come on. We have to get back to the Dalish. It's going to be difficult to explain what happened to them," Loghaina said.

"I'd suggest bringing them the body, but the beating he took would be hard to explain away," Loghain said, dryly.

"We should do it, anyway. They have some rites to put it to, no doubt."

"I suppose that means I just volunteered to carry it? Wonderful."

"Well, you're very helpful like that," Loghaina said, with a coquettish smile in his direction. She was trying, with no success, not to picture him as naked as the former werewolves. It was easier to keep her mind off it once he had the dead body of the Keeper in his arms.

They took Zathrian back to his people, who mourned the loss with a deep sense of shock evident in their eyes. Zathrian had been, to them, immortal, and imagining going forward without him was clearly difficult. His First, a woman named Lanaya, took over as Keeper, and she had questions for Loghaina about the condition of the body.

With perfect glibness, Loghaina spun a tale of how the curse was lifted, making Zathrian out to be a tremendous hero, who suffered mightily to save his people. She admitted that it was blood magic, but not the extent of culpability Zathrian bore in it. Her friends looked at her with expressions ranging from Alistair's disbelief to Loghain's dawning respect. Lanaya did not seem to notice, and since the story was clearly to her liking, she chose to accept it at face value.

"We will begin sending word to the other Ferelden clans," Lanaya said. "When you march on the darkspawn, the Dalish will march with you."

"Thank you, Keeper. I hold your service in great respect. If you will forgive me, my party needs rest and food. We will camp tonight on your outskirts again, with your permission."

"By all means. I would invite you to dine with us, but we will be observing an evening of fast in Zathrian's honor."

"What a foolish way to honor the dead, by starving for a night," Morrigan said.

"Fasting clears the mind and opens the soul," Sten said.

"Perhaps, but we Wardens have appetites that will not be denied," Loghaina said. "Let's make camp. I'm starving already."

The tents were still pitched from the night before, but the fire was out and they needed more water. By the time Loghaina came back from the stream with a bucket the Dalish had brought them food. They would not eat that night, in remembrance, but they laid out a feast for the ones they saw as their benefactors.

"Turkey! By the Maker!" Alistair said. It was cold, but roasted to perfection, and stuffed with bread crumbs, herbs, and cranberries. Where the Dalish had found a bog Loghaina had no idea. Perhaps this was one of the "luxuries" they traded for in Gwaren and other places. There was enough for all of them to stuff themselves.

Loghaina and Loghain took first watch, and they sat together in silence while Loghain cleaned his armor and repaired a torn fitting. Then Sten and Leliana came for their watch and relieved them, and Loghaina headed back to her tent. Loghain did not, but stayed where he sat, with his shoulders slumped and looking small without his pauldrons. He looked…uncomfortable. She realized with a bit of shock that he was in pain. From the way he shifted his shoulders and turned his neck, she guessed the problem was there.

She walked up to him, cat-footed, and placed the flats of her hands on his shoulder blades. He jumped out from under her touch and turned to face her.

"What in blazes do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I _was_ going to give you a neck rub," Loghaina said. "You looked like you needed it. Now that you know I'm here, would you like me to try again?"

He settled back down, with a sigh. "I do not need a neck rub," he said.

"Yes you do. Now hold still." She placed her hands on him again and kneaded the knotted muscles in his neck and shoulders. "Stiff as a board. We'll be here all night. You know what? Lie down."

"What?"

"Lie down. On your stomach."

"You want me to lie facedown in the dirt so you can attempt to work out knots that have been there since before you were born?" he said.

"I know a thing or two about massage. A friend taught me. She works at the Pearl."

He scoffed at her. "You learnt something from a whore?"

"I'm an elf. Some of my best friends are whores. Now lie down."

He did so, with his arms folded under his forehead to keep his face out of the dirt. It was not the most relaxing position, Loghaina knew, but since she didn't have a proper massage table for him to lay on, she had to work with what she had. She took off her boots and climbed barefoot onto his back.

"What are you _doing?" _he asked.

She kneaded his muscles with her feet. "What does it feel like I'm doing?"

"The Remigold."

She laughed. "Nothing so complicated, I assure you. Elves are too light for heavy massage."

"No offense intended, but you don't feel particularly light up there."

"That's the point. And stop complaining, you're more than big enough to handle my weight."

She worked on him for a few minutes. "I should have had you take your shirt off," she said. "Makes it a little bit slippery up here."

"Be careful," he said.

"It'll be fine," she started to say, but her feet tangled in his shirt and she pitched off his back. She caught herself with her outstretched hands but still managed to bump her nose on the ground. He bounded off the ground to a squatting position beside her and helped her up.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He took a handkerchief from his sleeve and pressed it to her upper lip to catch the blood that streamed out of her nose.

"I'm fine, it's not broken," she said sheepishly. "How are you?"

"Better, I think. My compliments to your friend."

"'Teyrn Loghain says thank you for the massage,'" she said. "She'll keel over."

Something came between them suddenly that made them both feel awkward. Loghain left her with the handkerchief and stood up.

"We should be getting back to camp. All this ruckus is probably keeping the others awake," he said.

She dabbed the last of the blood off her face. "I should wash out your handkerchief first."

"Don't bother. I have others. Come; it's late, and we start out for Ostagar in the morning."

"Ugh. Not looking forward to that."

"Neither am I."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Wilds**

In the morning, as they packed away their gear, Loghain came up to Loghaina and presented her with a pair of daggers.

"What's this?" she asked.

"For you," he said. "I traded with the Dalish craftsman for them. They're a sight better than what you've got. If we're going back to that darkspawn pit, you need a better grade of weapon."

"Teyrn Loghain, you shouldn't have…if anyone needs a better grade of weapon, it's you."

"There's nothing wrong with my sword."

"A no-rank soldier in your army carries better."

"My sword works perfectly fine for me, and I'm not impressed with Dalish sword craft. Their bows and daggers are peerless, but they don't know much about swords."

"Why do you carry a plain iron sword? You're the Teyrn of Gwaren. You could have the finest sword in Ferelden. You _should."_

"Should I? This works well enough for me. And these will work well enough for you, I don't doubt. Take them."

She reached out for them, hesitantly. They looked like red steel, but had a silvery shimmer she wasn't familiar with. They were almost weightless in her hands. "What are they made out of?" she asked.

"Ironbark."

"You mean they're _wooden?"_

"Do they feel like wood?" he replied. "Ironbark is as strong as steel, but less than half the weight. It comes off a tree, but it's not much like any other wood. The Dalish are the only ones who seem able to work it."

"Well, thank you. I don't know how to repay you for this. I don't have much money."

"Repayment is not necessary. You told Zathrian that I was your _friend. _Friends occasionally give things to each other, with no compensation in mind. It's part of the deal."

"The deal?"

"The friendship deal…thing. Whatever."

"Well, thank you."

"You're welcome."

The party headed for the Imperial Highway, which would take them all the way to Ostagar. "We'll be making a brief stop before we reach the fortress," Loghaina announced. "Morrigan needs help with something."

"Help with what?" Alistair asked. He sounded suspicious, as he always did whenever Morrigan was mentioned.

"We need to kill her mother for her," Loghaina said.

"_What? _Are you mad?"

"The woman is an abomination, and her intent is to take over Morrigan's body as her new living vessel."

"Morrigan told you that? And you believe her?"

"Yes."

"Not to sound too much like the boy," Loghain said, "but are you certain there is not a large inheritance involved here?"

"Ha! You haven't seen my mother's house, obviously," Morrigan said.

Loghaina picked her way through the trees with care. "Anyone who isn't comfortable with this can stay in camp with Morrigan," she said. "I think this is something that needs to be done, but I won't ask anyone else to stand with me. It will be dangerous, for we know the woman is a powerful mage."

"I will not abandon you, Warden," Wynne said. "This woman could indeed be supremely dangerous."

"Well, I'm always up for killing something, you know that," Loghain said. "Not too sure I want to add little old ladies to the list, but what's a bit more blood on my hands at this point?"

"Indeed. You're fairly drowning in it," Wynne said.

Loghain sighed, his eyes closed. "You know, I take that back. There is one little old lady I'd quite _happily_ add to the list."

"Sorry, we need her," Loghaina said. "Everyone, take a note: no killing of Wynne."

They found their way back to the Imperial Highway, and followed it south. They did not have many miles to go, but they made camp for the night prior to entering the Wilds.

"I will stay here in the morning, with whomever is chicken-livered," Morrigan said. "Remember: the one thing I must have is that book. It must be in the hut somewhere."

They ate supper, set a watch, and went to bed, and in the morning they ate a dismal breakfast before Loghaina, Loghain, Sten, Wynne, and Leliana headed out to the Wilds. Alistair was left behind, against his wishes, because Loghaina felt someone needed to be there to help Morrigan should something occur, and Gravy was left to assuage his feelings about being left behind. He did not want to kill Morrigan's mother, but he did not want to be left alone with Morrigan, either.

It was a long, silent walk through the wilds to Morrigan's hut. Doubts hovered unspoken in the air. Loghaina had her own doubts, but pushed them aside. She would confront the woman about Morrigan's accusations, and decide from there what to do.

They reached the marsh. Morrigan's mother was waiting for them outside the hut.

"Welcome, Warden. I've been expecting you," she said. Her tone was ominous. "And Loghain Mac Tir, of all people on this green earth. My, but you're looking old and creaky these days. Ah ha haha ha!"

"Less so than you, Old Woman, though I notice you're not a whit older than the last time I saw you," Loghain said. "I take back what I said, Tabris. This is an old woman I'll be quite happy to kill. But steer clear of the damned trees."

"You've met?"

"We've met."

"You keep bad company, Warden," the old woman said. "I wonder, when the time comes that he betrays you, will you have the strength to take back command, or will you fall to him as so many others have done?"

"You speak of things you do not know," Loghaina said.

"Oh, do I? Living this long has shown me much, while at your age, you've seen barely anything at all. But you did not come here to chat, did you? Morrigan has found someone to dance to her tune. It is a dance I know well. If you are decided on this, then let us have done with it. She will earn what she takes."

"Then you know why we're here, what Morrigan discovered?" Loghaina asked.

"I know what she read, for it was I who wrote it. You are here to kill me."

Loghaina nodded. "Then as you say, let's have done with it."

The old woman held up her staff, and in a flash of light she changed form. Where she had been was now a large dragon, and Loghaina felt a brief thrill of pure terror she quickly conquered. There was work to do.

She waded into battle. Her fine new daggers seemed ridiculously tiny to pit against something as massive as a dragon, but they were deadly sharp, and she was able to slide them underneath the creature's hard scales and draw blood. She was unlikely to land a killing blow, of course, but her attacks could, if landed judiciously, serve to cripple and drain the monster so the others could do their work. She worked at the dragon's legs, and hoped to sever tendons or at least weaken muscles.

The dragon did not fly. Perhaps that was one feature of dragonkind the mage could not duplicate, though her wings pummeled the air with enough force to knock Loghaina off her feet. Or perhaps she did not fly because she did not want to. She seemed to have accepted this battle as inevitable. Perhaps the outcome was inevitable, as well.

Great jaws snapped at her, but were knocked aside by a blow from Sten's greatsword. A heavy kite shield followed up the attack, and Loghain shouted, "Bite _me, _damn you!"

The dragon took him at his word, and scooped him up in her jaws. Though powerful, they could not crack the plate he wore, though it seemed her teeth left dents in the silverite. Loghain managed to wedge his sword into the dragon's mouth, and rammed it up into her skull through the soft palate. The dragon dropped him with an abortive shriek of pain and collapsed.

"Oh, well done," Loghaina said. "I was afraid this would take all day."

Loghain climbed to his feet. He reeled slightly, then steadied himself. Wynne stared down at the dragon's carcass with a worried frown creasing her features.

"What's wrong?" Loghaina asked her.

"Nothing, at least I _think _nothing," Wynne said. "I don't know much about the forbidden art of shape changing, you understand, but I…I was under the impression that a mage who died in a form not native to them…reverted back."

"Well, perhaps the old bag really was a dragon," Loghain said.

"In which case, what did she need Morrigan for?" Loghaina asked.

"I don't know. And I don't like it. But at least the bitch is dead, right?"

"Perhaps. Come; we need to find Morrigan's grimoire."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Korcari Encampment**

On their way back to camp from the hut in the wilds, it snowed: great, fat flakes in a tremendous flurry. It was rather difficult to find their way back, for the visibility dropped to almost nothing in short order. Loghaina had never been out of the city in such a storm, and so she depended on her companions to find their way back to camp through the storm. Loghain seemed to know how to keep his heading, at the least.

Back at camp, they buckled in to weather the storm. Morrigan was happy enough to have the time to read her precious new book, and Loghaina passed the time in Wynne's tent, learning to read. The lessons her mother had given her before she died came back to her quickly, and she made good progress. It was not the sort of work she was used to, however, and the hours dragged.

Wynne looked up and saw that her pupil's attention was wandering. She closed her book. "Warden, I wonder if I might talk to you about something," she said.

"You may," Loghaina said.

"It's about…Teyrn Loghain. I can't help but notice that you seem quite…fond of him."

"Maker's breath. Wynne, I don't want to hear any more about how he left poor dear King Cailan to die. You and I have very different viewpoints on what happened at Ostagar, and that's all there is to it."

"All right, I won't mention it. But my dear, what do you think you can have with him? He is Teyrn of Gwaren - Regent of all Ferelden. A man in his position may be allowed a certain latitude when it comes to…matters of the bedroom…but not when it comes to the _marriage_ bed."

Loghaina gaped. "I don't…I don't even know what to take offense at first," she said. "The idea that, as an elf, I am _unsuitable _to marry him, or that you think I _want_ to marry him in the first place."

"I don't mean to upset you, my dear. I just want you to see the difficulties involved in getting too…_involved _with such a man. Even if he were worthy of you, which he is not."

"What would you have said about Teyrn Loghain _before_ Ostagar?" Loghaina asked.

"I would have said he was a great man, a great hero. I am saddened to be proven wrong."

"But really, the only reason your opinion changed is because he wasn't able to do what _you yourself _were unable to do. You blame him for not effecting what may well have been an impossible rescue, because your expectations of him were unrealistic. He's a man, not a god."

"He had an entire army at his back," Wynne began.

"An army that might now be as decimated as the King's army, and where would that leave us?" Loghaina asked. "He made a tactical decision to withdraw his forces. Whether he was right or wrong in doing so will be for history to judge. We're too close to it."

"I…perhaps you're right, Warden. But I won't be forgiving him for the massacre at Ostagar any time soon."

"That's fine. I don't think he requires your forgiveness. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go back to my own tent now."

It was still snowing hard when she exited the tent, and she could barely find her way over to the other side of the choked-out fire to where her tent was. But she hesitated at the entrance, and crossed over to where Loghain's tent sat nearby. She opened the flap to peek inside.

Loghain lay on his back with his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the roof of canvas. He glanced over at the entrance when he saw the shift, and sat up propped on one elbow. "That's either Tabris or the Wendigo," he said. "Whichever it may be, don't just stand out there in the cold like a fool."

She poked her head inside. "What's the Wendigo?" she asked.

"An old wives tale. What do you want, Tabris?"

"To come in."

"Then do so."

She came in and adopted the same posture he'd been in, laying on her back with her hands folded behind her head. "Aren't you bored?" she asked.

"Stultified," he said. "But there's not much for it. Hopefully the snow will let up before morning, so we can press on tomorrow."

"Going to be hard travels."

"Yes."

"Want another backrub?"

He chuckled. "Thanks, but I don't think that's necessary. The last time, you nearly broke your nose."

"I'll be more careful this time. Besides, I can't stand up in here."

"Why so solicitous of me?" he asked. "I don't see you offering backrubs to anybody else. If it's the age thing, I'll have you to know I have plenty of miles left in me, even if the miles I've come have been long and hard."

"It's not the age thing. Roll over."

He did so, and she climbed onto his back on her hands and knees. She prodded hard at knotted muscles, to a deep groan of pain or perhaps pleasure from Loghain. "Woman, you are out of your ever-loving mind," he said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Well, there must be something wrong with you upstairs, or you wouldn't be here right now."

"I like the company."

"You just made my case for me."

"I don't think that makes me mad. Do you like _my_ company?" she asked.

"I do. That's not something I find very often."

She leaned in close to his ear. "If you like, I could show you some of the _other_ things my friend the whore taught me," she said in a low voice.

He was silent for a long moment. "What sort of things?" he asked at last.

"You know. _Special _things."

"_Sexual _things?" he asked.

"If you like it blunt, then, yes."

"I think it best we keep it at just friends," he said.

"Oh. Oh." She crawled down off his back with haste. She fled out into the snow and back to her tent.

"Sorry," floated after her on the wind.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Ostagar (Again)**

Loghaina lay awake a long time, her thoughts churning, uncomfortable and cold and lonely, until finally she slipped into an uneasy sleep. She dreamed of the Archdemon, and when it roared she roared back at it and told it to go piss up a rope, which brought her a moment's pleasure in the nightmare. Then, in the early-morning hours, she woke, still cold and still lonely, and she cursed herself. If she had been wise, and kept it at friends, he might have let her stay in his tent. He might even have held her, for warmth, and she would have had the night to lay aside this unwished for and unwelcome burden of leadership. Instead she had pushed her luck, been rejected, and spent the night shivering and stiff. She needed a backrub, something he might have been persuaded to give her, _if _she had kept it at friends.

She wondered what was wrong with her, that he wasn't attracted. He'd called her pretty, more than once. Was pretty not good enough? She thought she remembered him calling her beautiful on one occasion, though she knew she was not. By elvish standards she was fairly average. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was just too _average_ for the Teyrn of Gwaren. He could, after all, have pretty much any woman he wanted. He just didn't want _her._

There was no sense in beating herself up continually over it. Things would be awkward enough without that. She donned her leathers and cleaned herself up as best she could and went to join the others in digging out the snow that half-buried their camp gear.

The trek southward was even more difficult than she'd feared it would be. Her short, elven legs were unsuited to plowing through what was in places several feet of soft snow, and she wallowed helplessly at the head of the group until Loghain grabbed her by the shoulders, picked her up, and put her down again in his own footsteps. She trudged along in the double-furrow he plowed for her with her head hanging sheepishly. He was closed-off, but he always was. His demeanor hadn't undergone any great change thanks to what had happened between them.

The highway was snowed in completely, and the going was easier in the forest, so they left the pavement behind them and took the secondary route that led to the far side of the fortress. They met the first darkspawn just outside of Ostagar. The great horde that had overrun the army was gone, but there was still a goodly amount of resistance as they pressed their way forward into the ruin. When they reached the ramp that led up to the ruined temple where Loghaina had taken her Joining, they found a hurlock wearing a set of golden plate boots.

"The King's armor!" Wynne gasped. "Warden, we cannot let these foul creatures defile it further."

"It's just armor, Wynne. What do you want us to do, pack it out of here? It's heavy," Loghaina said, even as she stabbed the hurlock to death with her ironbark blades.

She took the boots off the creature and inspected them. "This _is _fine armor," she said. "Alistair, you're about the King's size. Why don't you try them on? They're better than what you've got."

"I don't want to," Alistair said.

"Don't be ridiculous. Armor is armor. What you've got on _now_ was taken off of dead people and darkspawn. What's the difference?"

"The difference is…oh, all right, I'll try it on."

Loghaina was expecting an approximate fit, but when Alistair stripped off his steel and leather boots in the snow and fastened on the golden plate, the armor might have been made for him, as it undoubtedly had been made for Cailan.

"Good. If we find any more of the suit, it's yours," Loghaina said.

"Yippie," Alistair said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

They continued through the fortress, to the remains of the mage's enclave, where stood the statue Elric Maraigne said disclosed the key to the chest that should be where the royal encampment had been. They had to fight their way through more darkspawn to reach it, but there were surprisingly few, all told. They found Cailan's plate gauntlets on the way.

"Here's the key," Loghaina said. "Now lets go find this chest."

They fought their way to where the king's tent once stood, and found the chest. Loghaina unlocked it. Inside was a bundle of letters and a beautiful longsword covered in glowing lyrium runes.

"That was Maric's sword," Loghain said. "What in the blue bloody blazes is it doing here?"

"King Cailan must have meant to use it," Loghaina said.

"The fool fought with a _greatsword. _He was hopeless with it, but there you go."

Loghaina took the blade out of the chest. "This is a fine blade," she said. "Teyrn Loghain, why don't you use it?" she asked.

"_What?" _he said.

"It's much better than what you have. If someone doesn't use it we can't really pack it out of here, and it seems a shame to let the darkspawn have it. So why don't _you_ use it?"

"Why me? Why not the boy?"

"Alistair's sword is better than yours already. Besides, King Maric was your friend. He'd want you to have it."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Take it, or I _will _give it to Alistair. It's your choice."

He took it. "I will look after it well," he said, as he traded out his plain iron sword for the fine blade.

"Now, let's see what's so very important about these letters that the Grey Wardens have to schlep them all the way back to Denerim," Loghaina said. She handed one of them to Loghain, who opened it.

"_This _is a letter from that prick Eamon Guerrin entreating Cailan to take a new wife. I guess, after five years of marriage and at the _ancient_ age of twenty-six, which he writes here as 'nearing thirty,' my daughter is used up and useless," he said, with disgust dripping from his voice.

"Well, that could hardly be seen as important," Loghaina said. "Try another one."

He did, and his eyes scanned the document twice, and narrowed more and more as he read. Finally he tossed it to the ground and swore. He continued to swear until it seemed the air around him had turned a bit blue. _"Traitorous cheating bastard!" _was the gist of his tirade.

"What? What is it?" Loghaina asked.

Loghain picked the letter up. "Hear for yourself," he said, and proceeded to read the document aloud. His face grew brighter and brighter red as he read. It was quite a sprightly missive, playful and coy, and made many references in thin code to a visit the King had made to Orlais. Before signing off, the writer had these words to say:

"'Know that I keep you in my heart, my golden one, and burn for the day when you at last become as you should be, the Emperor of my body and soul. Eternally yours, Celene.' That's _Empress _Celene, should you wonder. The Empress of fucking _Orlais. _That stupid bastard was trying to arrange a marriage with our greatest enemy! It would have been the end of Ferelden! And in exchange for all our freedoms, our fool of a king would have gotten to prance around calling himself _'Emperor!'"_

"And what of peace?" Wynne asked, in a tired voice. "Would it not have brought us that at least?"

"_Peace? _Peace! Perhaps you missed out on _Orlesian peace _in your ivory tower, Madam, so let me enlighten you. _Orlesian peace _was being squeezed by taxes designed to drive the common man off his lands. _Orlesian peace _was living under threat of being beaten to death for no reason except the whim of some masked and painted lordling because he was so very much _better _than you. _Orlesian peace _was being forced to watch as your mother was _raped and murdered _because your father dared to refuse to pay those squeezing taxes. I lived for nearly twenty years under _Orlesian peace_, Madam, before I started making war, and I'll tell you now I found the battlefield a more sensible and _peaceful _environment. The only _peace _we'll find as servants of the Empire is being forced to fight someone else's wars for someone else's reasons. There's your bloody _peace."_

"Did you know of Cailan's intentions before?" Loghaina asked.

"If I had, you may rest assured he would not have died on the battlefield," he said, through gritted teeth. "I would have killed him with my own two hands."

"What else is in those documents? Anything at all?"

Loghain paged through the others, his mouth a grim, narrow line. "More of the same. I wonder what he thought was so important that he had to have Duncan collect them? Maybe the fucking Wardens _were_ in on some sort of Orlesian plot, with the Idiot King in full complicity."

"Maybe it was the sword," Loghaina said. "It belonged to King Maric; maybe he wanted it retrieved. He certainly couldn't have asked _you_ to collect it, not with these inflammatory papers sitting right next to it."

"Hmph. True."

"Come on. Let's clear out as many darkspawn as we can, and see what else we find. Every darkspawn we kill is one less that can attack Ferelden, right?"

Loghain stuffed the documents inside his chestpiece. "I'm taking these with me. This needs to be brought to the Landsmeet: Ferelden has a right to know what was going on." He sighed, and looked weary and rather old. "I wonder how many will even care. How many were _in_ on it. Bloody capitulators."

They found their way back to the highway, leading out of Ostagar. It was mostly clear here in the ruin. Halfway across the bridge that led across the gorge where the final battle was fought, they came upon a gruesome structure, a sort of cross on which the naked body of the king, hideously well-preserved, was affixed by many arrows as well as bindings.

"Maker's breath. No one deserves this," Loghaina said.

"We can do nothing for him right now. Let us finish with the darkspawn," Loghain said.

"Yes. But we're coming back. I won't leave him up there."

"Agreed," Loghain said. Wynne shot him a look of surprise and suspicion, but held her tongue for once.

They followed the roadway towards the tower of Ishal, and fought more darkspawn along the way, including some undead raised by what appeared to be a genlock emissary that fled before them. They found, too, more of Cailan's armor, which Alistair reluctantly donned. They were still missing the chestpiece, and the suit looked strange with steel chainmail mixed in with it.

"That emissary fled into Ishal. I won't be satisfied until it's dead," Loghaina said.

They entered the structure, and found the hole through which the darkspawn had poured into the tower during the battle. "Fleeing back into their warrens, are they?" Loghain said. "Let's take the battle to them."

They descended carefully into the pit, and found themselves in a substructure forgotten to history, probably dwarf-built like the tower itself. Loghaina surveyed the place and shook her head. "There ought to have been Wardens in the tower before the battle, checking for things like this. They were the only ones would could have sensed the darkspawn gathering here."

"Let's keep moving," Loghain said.

They fought their way through to a second exit that led onto the battlefield. There they caught up to the emissary, which raised numerous dead soldiers and even a fallen ogre to battle them. Loghaina ordered her party to focus their attention on the necromancer. "Quickly, before we're overwhelmed!" she said.

Even after dealing with the emissary, they still had the risen to deal with. The undead soldiers were easy enough to fell, but the ogre was another thing altogether. When at last it toppled with Sten's greatsword buried in its skull they stopped to rest and heal themselves before picking through the remains.

"There's the last of Cailan's armor, Alistair. Put it on," Loghaina said, and he did so, with many grumblings under his breath. "Looks good on you. Wow, you could be the King's brother."

Alistair looked uncomfortable, and Loghain laughed a harsh, barking laugh that made Gravy whine and paw at his feet. Loghaina paid no attention, and examined the corpse of the ogre. A pair of blades were stuck in its chest. She pulled them out.

"These were Duncan's," she said, as she inspected the fine longsword and dagger. "Alistair, why don't you have them? He was special to you."

He took them, with far more reverence and gratitude than he showed for the fine armor he wore. "And now we must deal with the King," Loghaina said, and led the way back through the cavern to the highbridge.

They pulled the body off the cross.

"What are we going to do with him?" Alistair asked.

"Leave him," Loghain said.

"We will do nothing of the kind," Wynne said. "He was our King!"

"He was a traitor, who was prepared to sell us to the highest bidder. What makes you think he deserves a better grave than the soldiers who died defending him?"

"He doesn't," Loghaina said. "That would be true even if he _hadn't _had dealings with Orlais. We leave him. We've done all we could for him anyway. The earth is frozen solid and we have no oil for a proper pyre."

"We could still burn the body!" Wynne said.

"Without oil, we could sit here feeding the flames for hours without end and still never accomplish anything but to cook a fine meal for the wolves. I don't feel inclined even to gather enough wood for a charring, frankly, and I'll not sacrifice the edges of our blades chopping more than that."

"Well," Wynne said, with a haughty sniff, "I hope there is someone more charitable around when it is time for _your _pyre, Warden."

"You forget who you're talking to," Loghaina said. "No one wastes time and money on a proper funeral for an elf. Our bodies get tossed in a communal burn pit with garbage for kindling. _That_ is the truth of Dear King Cailan's Ferelden, Wynne. Don't forget it."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: The Road to Redcliffe**

Loghain looked tired as they left Ostagar behind them. Tired and worn. Still, they did not stop to rest until they left the Wilds behind them, and found a place where the snow was thin on the ground. They pitched camp, did what they could to see to supper, and settled in around the fire to warm up. Loghain did not sit with the others. Instead, he crawled into his tent and lay down. He did not even volunteer to keep a watch that night.

The next morning did not show that he had gotten much rest, and as they set out in the general direction of Orzammar Loghaina was worried. He had been, up until now, virtually tireless, and always the last man to stop for rest. Something had sapped his will. Those letters he carried now tucked away in his pack were too heavy for him to bear.

She dropped back to walk beside him at the back of the group, feeling only a little uncomfortable in the wake of his rejection. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Talk about what?" he asked, irritably.

"What's bothering you. Those letters."

He made a sound like an angry cat. "We fought like _demons_ to set this country free, and a lot of good men and women paid the ultimate price for it. I don't know how many gallons of sweat and blood it took, but I bet you could drown the whole kingdom in it. And now, in one free generation…it's all for nothing. They just don't care. Freedom is a cheap commodity to them. They've never had to work for it. Why the bloody hell did we fight so hard to see Ferelden free if our children just want to throw it away?"

"You can't blame the whole generation for _Cailan's _shortsighted selfishness," Loghaina said.

"Can't I? Maybe so."

"Anora wouldn't have any truck with Celene, would she?" Loghaina asked.

"I hope to the _Maker_ I raised a smarter child than that," Loghain said, in a growl.

"Well, then that's _two_ young people you know who don't want to throw our freedom away. Two versus one: we have the advantage. And I don't think Alistair is too fond of the idea of an Occupied Ferelden, though I've never asked."

He looked at her in some surprise. She bridled slightly. "What, you don't believe that I wouldn't see Ferelden back under Orlesian rule?"

"No, it's not that. It just took me by surprise to think of you as young. I don't even know how old you aren't, but it is remarkably easy to think of you as more of a contemporary."

She walked in thoughtful silence for a few steps. "I don't know whether to be offended or flattered," she said at last.

"You should probably be offended, but it wasn't meant that way," he said. He sighed deeply. "It's difficult to get old. You start to have to watch the world go by without you."

She chuckled. "It'll be awhile, I'm thinking, before I see you on the sidelines."

"I don't know. If I get any more nasty surprises like that, I'm probably going to have a heart attack." He was silent for a time, and then he said, with a kind of weary humor, "You know, I knew all along that Cailan had…women. On the side. I didn't do anything about it because Anora told me to keep my nose out of it, but I…I so wanted to wring his neck. Now I'm left to wonder just how much influence those feelings had on my decision to abandon the field at Ostagar. I don't like to think I might have left half my army to die because I was pissed off at Cailan."

"I think, if your anger with Cailan had much influence on your tactical decisions, you probably would have abandoned him before that morning. You had ample opportunity in the several other battles you fought against the darkspawn."

"True. But I'll never be sure, and that's the hell of it. My temper has always been a beastly thing. And I'm not the type to flare up quick and cool down quicker, I get angry fast and I stay angry a long time. To watch my child be continually disrespected by the man who was supposed to be her friend and her lover…and to not be able to say or do anything about it…that was hard. That was probably the hardest thing I've ever gone through."

"Where do you think we should go?" she said, after a few minutes of silence passed between them.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Our next stop. I'd like to resupply somewhere and hear news of the kingdom. We've been out of touch quite awhile."

He thought for a moment, then sighed. "Radcliffe is the closest stop on the route to Orzammar from here. So long as we can avoid that _prick_ Eamon I suppose it's as good a place as any."

"What's so bad about Arl Eamon? Other than the fact he wanted Cailan to find a different wife?"

"Ha! Isn't that enough? Other than that, I suppose the worst things about him are that he hid in the Free Marches while his father and sister fought to free Ferelden, and didn't come back until the last battle - the battle to liberate _Redcliffe Castle, _in fact, which made him look just loyal enough that he inherited the damned place. Then he up and married an Orlesian _bitch _from the family we took the castle back from. He rarely makes himself heard at the Landsmeet and yet somehow he has more influence there than almost any other man in the kingdom, and he's an elitist who _never_ wanted Anora for queen because of her common birth. And Maric gave him a relatively simple task, and he completely screwed the pooch on that mess."

"What mess was that?"

He sighed. "I'd have to suppose it's not my place to tell you, though why you don't know is beyond my reckoning. It's not like the subject hasn't come up in conversation."

"Well, now you've piqued my curiosity."

"Sorry, my dear. Your curiosity will have to go unassuaged for now. It's not my place. It _should _have been my place, but there you go." He took a few steps in silence. "Speaking of places, shouldn't you be at the head of this column? These jackanapes you run with are liable to get themselves lost."

"Ha! You think I know where I'm going? If it doesn't lie on the Imperial Highway, I'm pretty much relying on _you_ to tell me where things are."

She elbowed him in the side. "What I'm saying is, I kind of need you up at the head of the column _with _me, not back here with the grunts. There was a plot, of some kind. How far it stretched I don't know. But it died with Cailan. Ferelden has been saved from one threat; now we have to focus on saving it from a greater one. I need you with me."

"Why am I so important to your progress?" he asked.

"Ha! You led an army of farmers and dairymen to victory against the most powerful empire in Thedas. You're the greatest hero this nation has ever produced."

"A _hero_ who left his king to die in battle," he pointed out.

"Which, knowing what I now know, I can only think was for the best. I know that the various Lords on High are upset, and you'll never win over Wynne or probably Alistair either, but frankly, a king who would turn against his own people like that had it coming."

He laughed tiredly. "The various Lords on High are more than upset, they're fighting over it. Leaving the capital with you, I _hope, _has kept them from outright civil war."

"Do they think you left him on purpose?" she asked.

"Some of them, perhaps. Most of them are just eager to make a grab for the throne. I was their excuse. I'm hoping that being out of the way for a time will give Anora some breathing room."

"So I'd wager you're eager to hear news of the kingdom yourself," Loghaina said.

"That I am. I am _particularly_ eager to hear if there have been any rumblings from a disappointed Orlais. The last thing we'd need is for them to decide a Blight makes a good time to strike. With the nobility divided and our army depleted, we'd be ripe for the picking."

"What's the likelihood of an attack?"

"Celene prefers to use trickery and subterfuge to get what she wants. Doesn't mean she _won't _go to war, just means there's a chance she won't. We'll have to pray for that chance." He shook his head. "Poor Cailan. He never stood a chance against that witch. He was never what you'd call particularly resistant to suggestion. He must have been putty in her hands."

"You think he didn't mean to hand us over to the Orlesians?" she asked.

"I think he thought it was a noble thing to do. 'Eternal peace at last,' or some such romantic _bull_ shit. He was very keen on foolish romantic notions. Great heroes and grand adventures. Things that only exist in storybooks. She would have lured him in with promises of autonomy and sharing culture and 'golden ages' and other outright lies. He'd have had no defenses. Cailan had a young man's notion that the past is _passed_, but in my experience it stays with you forever, and threatens to overtake the present at every turning. If you don't keep your head about you, you find yourself right back where you came from."

"What was it really like, the Occupation?" Loghaina asked. "For humans, I mean. My mother and father told me what it was like for the elves, and it made me glad I was born after the war."

He looked at her with elevated eyebrows. "So it was worse for the elves during the Occupation? I never knew. I always assumed it was roughly the same, which pissed me off no end, thinking we couldn't treat people any better than the damned Orlesians."

"Well, you know how it is. When people feel powerless, they take it out on those that are weaker."

"True. I never thought of that. Well, to answer your question, it was bad. They took away everything we had, a little at a time or all at once, depending on their whim. We were forced off our lands to live as outlaws in the wilds. They murdered us when they felt like it, raped every common-born woman they could get their hands on, and generally made life miserable for everyone, even the bloody nobility, most of whom they eventually forced off their lands as well."

"What about the ones they didn't force off their lands?" Loghaina asked.

He smiled grimly. "Those are the ones we hung," he said.

"How did we exist under eighty years of that kind of oppression?" she asked. "I would have guessed it would be harder to throw off after so long."

"We didn't live that way for eighty years. When King Vanedrin was killed at the battle of Lothering, his son Brandel inherited the throne. He held it for all of five years before suffering his own defeat while trying to throw off the Orlesians. He survived, but he and his surviving child were forced to flee into the bannorn themselves. The rest of the Theirins were slaughtered. Brandel died soon after, and his daughter, Moira, took up the flag of freedom. The Orlesians installed several governors before placing the nation beneath the fist of a man named _Megrin_, a sick, twisted bastard if ever there was one, even by Orlesian standards. That was when things got really bad. His reign lasted not quite fifteen years before we put his head over the gates at Denerim."

"Did you really see your mother…?"

He nodded. "I was twelve. That was the year we took to the Wilds, to live off the land. My father never got over his failure to protect her…and me."

"I've never felt _sorry_ for humans before."

"If it seems to you, as it does to me, that you and I understand each other fairly well, then I think it is because we come from similar backgrounds. I wish I knew how to make people behave differently. If I did, we'd have no more need for alienages."

"Changing minds is hard. Changing hearts is harder."

"I'm not wise enough to do either one properly. Maric might have done, if he'd had time."

"Do you really think King Maric could have changed anything?"

"Yes."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Outside Redcliffe**

A hand tapped her on the shoulder. Loghaina was surprised. They'd been on the road for two days since Ostagar, and had made it within sight of Redcliffe without anybody saying much of anything to anyone while walking or in camp, with the exception of her one long conversation with the usually taciturn Teyrn. She turned to see Alistair regarding her with worried eyes.

She hadn't gotten a handle on Alistair's feelings about what they saw and did at Ostagar. He seemed to have no great love for the king, but the lack of a proper funeral pyre seemed to bother him more than a little, though he didn't say a word against her decision to leave Cailan for the wolves. Frankly, she cared very little about whether or not he was bothered, but he was a nice young man, and she did like him despite how much he whined about things, so she did care just the teensiest bit. Life had made her harsh. It did not make her unfeeling.

"Can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?" he said to her now.

"Of course," she said.

He led her off to the side, while the others waited politely on the road. "You remember I told you how Arl Eamon raised me, right?" he said.

"I remember you telling me that he dumped you off on the Chantry doorstep as soon as you were inconvenient," Loghaina said.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, and his head moved from side to side slowly as if he didn't quite know how to shake it in negation. "I…I told you he raised me, all right, and the reason that he did that was…was because…" He took a deep breath. "Because _King Maric _was my father. I'm his bastard son. So when you said I looked like I could be Cailan's brother, _that's _why Loghain laughed."

"So why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"You're not…surprised? Angry, that I kept it from you? Not even a little?"

"What's it to me? Unless it in some way affects what we're trying to do, it's none of my business. _Does_ it affect what we're trying to do?"

He shook his head vigorously. "It certainly shouldn't. I've been told all my life that my parentage was meaningless; I don't see why it should start causing trouble now."

"Good. And thank you for telling me. It satisfies my curiosity regarding something Loghain said to me, and now I understand why he said Arl Eamon made a cock-up of it."

"Wait - he spoke to you about me?"

"In a round-about sort of way. He said it wasn't his place to tell me exactly what he meant, but that it _should _have been his place. I think I understand that, now, too. Maric should have given you over to _him _to raise, if he couldn't see fit to raise you himself."

"_What? _Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Just think: you'd _never_ have been tossed away to the Chantry. Loghain wouldn't give a _rabid dog _to the Chantry, and I can't imagine the woman nag enough to tell him to do so. You'd have had a home. Probably a _strict _home, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. You certainly wouldn't be a Grey Warden right now, which means you'd lead a healthier, longer life."

"Stop telling me this," he said. His voice was shaky.

"Sorry. Just calling it as I see it."

"Let's just move on. We've got work to do here, right?"

"I hope not. This is a supply stop only. You're not interested in paying a social call, are you?"

"Not…really. I left things kind of…_bad_…with the Arl last time I saw him."

"Then we won't stay long. I'm eager to get to Orzammar. The home of the children of stone should be a sight to see, eh?"

"Yes. Yes, it should." Alistair sounded a bit dazed, as if he still couldn't quite grasp how little fuss was being made over his grand revelation.

"Come on, let's go. I'm getting tired of hardtack biscuits and what little untainted game we can find."

She went back to the road, and Alistair followed. They headed for the bridge nearby, that crossed over the rushing mill stream of Redcliffe village. Someone was standing in the middle of it, a man in rough-weave clothing, wearing a bow and quiver on his back.

"Are you here to help us?" he asked. "Is that…_Maker's breath! _Teyrn Loghain! Your Lordship, am I ever glad to see you!"

"Slow down, son. What's going on?" Loghain asked.

"You mean you don't know? Redcliffe is under attack, Your Grace. Every night, monstrous creatures come pouring out of the castle. We've been overrun, night after night. Bann Teagan has rallied what men are left alive, but we can't hold out against them for much longer."

"What kind of monstrous creatures? Darkspawn?" Loghaina said.

"No! Skeletons! Corpses! The walking dead! Please, please, you must help us!"

"You say that Bann Teagan is in charge? Why not Arl Eamon?" Alistair asked.

"The Arl is sick. He could be dead, for all we know. No word comes from the castle at all, only those…those _things_. Maker bless the Bann. He came to see his brother but he stayed to help us. Hasn't been able to get near the castle."

"You'd better take us to him, young man," Loghain said.

"Right away, Ser!"

"Blast and damnation. We're going to get drawn into this, aren't we?" Loghaina said as the group followed the peasant down the steep slope into the little village.

"More than likely," Loghain said.

"I'm not against helping people in trouble. I just wish we didn't run into them every place we turn."

"Get used to it. When you're strong, the weak want you to jump through all sort of pretty hoops for them. If you have the slightest bit of decency in your soul, you'll jump through damned near every one of them."

"Why is that?"

"It's the duty of the strong to protect the weak. A fate I tried many times to run from. Never got far. There was always someone with a better heart than mine to pull me back."

"It is a pity that wasn't the case at Ostagar," Wynne said, snappishly.

"Can it, hag," Loghain shot back, without venom.

"Cailan was only weak-_minded," _Loghaina said.

"Hey, that's my brother you're talking about," Alistair said.

"_Half_-brother. And what was he to you, really? Just another person who didn't care as much about you as they ought to have."

The peasant led them into the Chantry, the one truly defensible structure, other than the castle, that stood in Redcliffe. Bann Teagan was there.

"Tomas? Who are these people?" the Bann said. He caught sight of Loghain and his eyes narrowed. "Your…Your Grace. I am surprised to see you here. Word was that you had gone off on a quest with the remaining Grey Wardens, after setting a bounty on their heads."

"After _repealing_ the bounty, Teagan," Loghain said, in a kind of grunt. "If you can, put aside the recriminations I can see you want to throw at me again, and let us focus on the issue at hand. What is the status of the village?"

The Bann's face closed down briefly, there was an internal struggle, and finally his features settled into a relaxed state. "Not good, I'm afraid. What few defenders remain are those outside, or perhaps lurking in the tavern. There are roughly a dozen able men left to stand. The rest of the village is here, in the Chantry. If the creatures attack again tonight, as they have done every night for the past week, we will never hold."

"Warden Tabris?" Loghain asked.

She nodded. "We'll help you drive them back, Bann Teagan."

Teagan's handsome face registered relief. "Maker bless you. You are a Warden, then? Are all of your companions, as well?"

"No. There are only two of us left in Ferelden."

Alistair stepped forward. "I would be the other surviving Warden, Bann Teagan. The last time you saw me, I was covered in mud."

Bann Teagan cocked a quizzical brow. "Covered in mud?" He conned the face of the young man, and his expression cleared. "Alistair! By the Maker, it is wonderful to see you alive!"

Loghaina turned towards the massive double doors. "Come; let's see what sort of defense we can cobble together in this place."


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Redcliffe Proper**

Loghaina came out of the tavern and rejoined her group. "Did you know, the great claim to fame at the tavern here is that Loghain once slept there during the Rebellion? Seems a strange thing to be famous for."

Loghain grimaced. "There are dozens of inns and taverns across Ferelden that make the same claim, and it's all a pack of lies. I never slept in an inn _once_ during the rebellion. There was no coin for such nonsense."

"Most any place with a loyal Ferelden in charge of it would have let you sleep there for free, you know."

"More likely, they'd have let me in only to sell me out for the bounty on my head. What would be the point in taking such a chance? Anyway, did you learn anything of the kingdom?"

"I didn't even bother to ask," Loghaina said. "This town only has one thing on its mind right now, and that's tonight. It looks like we're all that stands between these people and imminent death."

"There must be a certain sense of déjà vu in this for you, isn't there, Teyrn Loghain?" Leliana asked.

He grimaced again. "I prefer to think of it as history repeating itself."

"That's kind of what she said," Alistair said.

"Yes, but she _said_ it in Orlesian."

Morrigan sniffed with a curled lip. "This entire village smells strongly of fish. _Dead_ fish. Do we really have to waste our time on these pathetic creatures?"

"I concur with the witch," Sten said. "This delay is entirely without justification. Those who cannot protect themselves die. It is the way of the world."

"We're helping, final word. I don't particularly like it myself, but I would like it very much less if we went on our merry way and found out later that the entire village was wiped out," Loghaina said.

"Oh, very well," Morrigan said. "Oh, this place is just one great hovel, isn't it? And believe me, I know from hovels. I do not understand why the peasants seem so very grateful to this _Bann Teagan _for staying with them. He does not fight. He remains locked in the Chantry with the women and children and lets the villagers do the dying for him. What is his use? Looking pretty, with his one little braid tucked behind his ear?"

"Hey, that's my uncle you're talking about. Well, he's sort-of my uncle," Alistair said.

"And if he _were_ your blood relation, I would know where his uselessness stems from."

"His uselessness stems from the fact that he's Ferelden nobility," Loghain said. "He's actually a damned good fighter, in a pinch, but he's not going to stick his neck too far out for these folks. If the creatures broke through the doors of the Chantry, I expect he'd fight - to protect his _own_ life as much as the lives of the women and children in there with him - but by that point, what would be the use? He'd be on his own, with no chance. He'd serve them better out here with the men, but the nobility has this funny notion that armies can be led from well behind the front lines."

They rummaged through the town, looking for things to aid in their defense of the village. In the general store, they found barrels and barrels of oil. "Well, we could torch the whole place with this," Loghaina said. "We should be able to set a few dozen walking dead on fire without difficulty."

"Let's hope that kills them. _Flaming_ monsters might be a trifle harder to fight," Loghain said.

They went from house to house, rousting the last able men holding out in their own homes. There weren't many, just a dwarf and his human bodyguards they had to threaten into service. Why a dwarf in this tiny village required bodyguards was a question for another time. Presumably he was a traveling merchant or some such. They had a dismal supper in the tavern, conferred a bit longer with the village mayor and the leader of the few Redcliffe knights that weren't off on some wild goose chase for a curative for the sick Arl, and waited for sundown. Not a great deal of speech passed between them as the hours and minutes ticked slowly by.

The sun set, and everyone tensed as darkness drew on. As soon as the last rays of the sun had left the western sky, a green cloud descended the slope from the castle, moving at lightning speed.

"Here they come!" someone shouted, in a panic.

Loghaina and her fellows rose to meet the cloud, which disgorged undead creatures lacking all but the most superficial resemblance to the humans they'd once been. Ser Perth, leader of the Redcliffe knights, commanded his men to light the traps in an unnecessarily wordy speech.

"Perth! Less talk, more action!" Loghain bellowed, as he neatly sliced the head off of an animated corpse.

The foulness was indescribable. The stench of death and decay, the utter wrongness of the dead ripped from their endless sleep.

"_This _is why we burn our dead," Loghaina said, in a grunt. "This is just…so _wrong."_

They hacked a dozen dozen walking dead to pieces, after which the onslaught lessened. A moment to catch their breath only, and then a scout came running up the slope from the village, screaming that more dead were attacking from the lake. Loghaina led the charge down the hillside, after shouting at Ser Perth and the knights to hold the path. There were more undead to deal with in the village square, soggy undead, wet from their swim across the cold lake. Somehow that made them worse. The dry undead did not squish so when they were struck.

It was a long night, with Loghaina and her party rushing uphill and down to shore up the defenses of whichever group of defenders was being hit the hardest. Some time after midnight, the flow of undead seemed to taper off, and for the last watches of the night they were able to relax, if not to rest, while Wynne and Morrigan, who knew one basic spell of healing, tended to the wounded. It was a weary group of fighters that rose to greet the dawn.

Bann Teagan emerged from the Chantry and held a brief conference with the village mayor. Then he stood upon the Chantry steps and addressed the milling townsfolk.

"Dawn arrives, my friends, and all of us remain! We are victorious!" he said, as if he'd played some part in the victory. He turned to Loghaina and the others. "And it is to these good folk we owe our lives today. The Maker blessed us when He sent you to us in our hour of dire need."

"Yes, you're welcome. Is there a place we could sack out for a couple of hours? I'm bushed," Loghaina said.

"I know you must be tired, but I'm afraid I must ask you to hold out still longer. Will you meet with me by the windmill? There is much to discuss."

Loghaina sighed. "Very well. We will join you as soon as our mages have finished healing the wounded."

In a few minutes time, they climbed the hill again, and Loghaina's were not the only feet that made the climb at a weary plod. They met the Bann at the top. He was staring out at the castle, on its lonely tor in the water.

"Odd how quiet the castle looks from here, as if there were not a living soul within its walls," he said. "The source of the evil that plagues this village by night must be there, and I have…I have the gravest fears for the safety of my brother and his family." He turned to look at them. "Will you go with me to the castle to stop this evil at its source, and save my brother? I cannot do it alone."

Loghaina let out a heavy breath through loose lips, and made a sound like a restive horse. "Why not? In for a copper, in for a sovereign, is that not so? Not that I've ever seen a sovereign in my life. Certainly I don't want to spend another night like the last."

"Teyrn Loghain?" the Bann asked.

"If the boss says jump, I ask how high," Loghain said, to the Bann's clear confusion.

"Well, then…excellent. I will…_Maker's breath." _The Bann pointed back along the path that lead to the causeway of the castle. Loghaina turned to look, and saw a woman in a red gown running toward them, followed by a small number of guards.

"_Teagan! Oh, Teagan!" _she cried out as she ran. "Teagan, you must come to the castle with me. Terrible things have been happening."

"Calm down, lady, and tell us what's going on," Loghaina said.

"What? Who is this woman? Who are these people - _Andraste! _Teyrn Loghain! It was _you_ who unleashed this evil upon us! How dare you show your face here after what you have done to those who did you no harm?"

"_Shut your mouth," _Loghain said, in a tone of sheer command. "I've done nothing to you, not that I wouldn't like to."

"We have no choice but to trust him, for now, Isolde," Teagan said. "Tell me, what has happened?"

"A mage, sent by _this wretched man_, poisoned my husband and set demons upon us. And Connor - I fear Connor is going mad."

"Loghain?" Loghaina asked.

"Don't look at me. When would I have had time to send a mage to poison Eamon? And _why_ would I have done? I can assure you, if I'd planned an assassination, I would have sent someone I could trust to do the job right."

"Oh, great. Not that you wouldn't _dream_ of assassinating Arl Eamon, just that you would have done a better job of it," Alistair said, with a roll of the eyes.

Isolde narrowed her eyes at the young man, but didn't comment. She turned back to Bann Teagan. "You must come back to the castle with me, Teagan, alone. There is no time for further explanation."

"Very well. Just give me a moment, Isolde."

"All right. But please, hurry."

Teagan watched her as she and her guards walked back to the head of the causeway, and then turned quickly back to Loghaina and the others. He took a ring off his finger and pressed it into her hand. "There is a secret passage in the windmill. My signet opens the way. Follow it into the castle dungeons and join me in the castle proper as quickly as you can."

"All right. Be careful. I don't trust that woman."

"I fear she may be under duress," Teagan said. "But then, the circumstances are dire. Her behavior could simply be nerves. Whatever the cause, you must come swiftly. Together we will root out the heart of this evil and save Redcliffe Castle."

"All right. We'll head that way now."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Redcliffe Castle**

"_Agh, die, blasted creature!"_

Loghain's voice, always a trifle overpowering in its upper volumes, echoed in the narrow stone corridor and rang inside Loghaina's ears. She groaned and sliced the arm off the corpse that was attacking her. The party made short work of the handful of undead besieging the dungeon corridor, and they stopped to catch their breath, all of them exhausted from the night's exertions.

"Who is it? Who is there? Please, speak to me!" came a plaintive, and rather high-pitched, male voice from one of the cells.

Loghaina stepped forward. "Are you the mage who started all this mess?" she asked the man. He was wearing robes, she saw, so it was pretty clear that he was.

"No! You must believe me! I had nothing to do with the demons that stalk the castle. I…I poisoned the Arl, but I did nothing else, I swear it!"

Loghain stepped up to the bars. "On whose orders did you poison Arl Eamon?" he demanded.

The mage didn't even blink. "Teyrn Loghain's. He said that the Arl was a threat to the nation. I know how this must look, but what do you want from me? It was _Teyrn Loghain!"_

"It bloody well was _not!"_

"It was! I swear it was! Men with the shield of Gwaren came and took me away from the templars that had captured me. Then the Teyrn came and told me that I must do this for the good of Ferelden. I'd seen paintings, so I know it was him. I thought I was helping the nation, but he's abandoned me here, hasn't he?"

Loghain shared a look with Loghaina. Then he looked back at the mage. "So you met the Teyrn of Gwaren, did you? Tall fellow, isn't he?"

"Not particularly. He was rather _short, _actually. He wasn't much like I expected, that's for sure."

"Big nose? Dark hair?"

"Big nose, yes, but his hair was silver."

Loghain shot Loghaina a triumphant look. "Weasely little devil, isn't he?"

"I shouldn't like to say so, but…yes."

"_Howe. _The sneaking bastard. What's he think he's at, putting my name to a half-assed assassination attempt like this?" Loghain said, and fumed.

"You were deceived, Mage," Loghaina said. _"This _is Teyrn Loghain. The man you met was an imposter."

The mage looked at Loghain with wide eyes. "You mean to say that I committed an act of near murder…and _it wasn't even Teyrn Loghain? _Maker's breath."

Wynne stepped forward. "Wait. I recognize you, do I not?" she said. "You are the young man who destroyed his phylactery and escaped, shortly before Ostagar. The blood mage."

"Yes, I'm a blood mage. But I never did anything like this before, and wouldn't have done, if I hadn't truly thought that it was _Teyrn Loghain _I was doing it for."

"Just how did you insinuate yourself into the castle, if I might ask?" Loghain asked.

"The Arlessa needed a mage to tutor her son. The boy had started to…show _signs."_

"_What?_ Connor, a mage? I don't believe it," Alistair said.

"It's true!" the mage said.

"How much did you _teach _Connor, exactly?" Loghaina asked.

"Not much. It all fell apart so quickly. You must believe me, I didn't teach him how to do this!"

"You keep saying that we must believe you. So far I haven't seen that you're all that trustworthy," Loghaina said. "We need to be moving on, now. Thank you for the information. It's good to know what we could be dealing with."

She walked away. Wynne called after her.

"You realize, if he did not conjure up these demons, then the likely source of our problem is the child?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I know."

"If the child is possessed…Maker. We shall have to destroy him."

"Let's not go putting the cart before the horse," Loghaina said. "It might not be the boy at all."

"Should we kill this mage, just in case?" Sten asked, and stood at the door of the cell with his sword out.

"Won't solve the problem at hand, although it would keep him from conjuring more," Loghaina said. "No, we'll leave him be, for now. Until we find out for certain what's behind all of this."

"I don't think I buy all this nonsense about him mistaking Rendon Howe for me," Loghain said, as they climbed up out of the dungeons to the courtyard above. "We look nothing alike."

"Knowing someone from their portraits can be deceptive," Loghaina said. "He probably saw the shields and assumed."

There were more undead in the courtyard. Loghaina ran for the lever that raised the portcullis, and Ser Perth and the knights of Redcliffe rushed in to aid them. With their help, it took next to no time to clear the courtyard of all walking corpses, even though one of them, with a sword and shield as well as fine armor, was hard to kill.

"Thank you for raising the gate," Ser Perth said. "Shall we enter the Hall together? I am anxious to see how fares our Arl."

"Yes. Bann Teagan needs us."

They entered the fortress. There in the main receiving hall they found the Arlessa, a contingent of guards, a young boy of perhaps twelve, and Bann Teagan, who was sitting on the floor by the boy.

"What is it? What comes? I cannot see," the boy said, in an unnaturally deep voice that echoed strangely.

The Arlessa stood with head and shoulders bowed. "This is…this is an _elf, _Connor, and some men and women," she said. Loghaina blinked at her, once, but was unsurprised.

"Are they the ones who saved that wretched village and spoiled my fun?"

"We are," Loghaina said. "And _you're_ the evil we've come to destroy, aren't you?"

"No!" the Arlessa said. "No, you cannot hurt him!"

"But _I_ can hurt whomever I choose!" the boy said. He ran out of the room, and the guards and Bann Teagan advanced upon Loghaina's group. The Knights of Redcliffe pitched in to help them, and thankfully so, or it might have been a hard-won battle. Loghain knocked Bann Teagan out with a pommel blow to the forehead, but they were not so gentle on the ensorceled guards, and killed them all.

"Please…please…you cannot hurt my son," Arlessa Isolde pleaded with them when the battle was over. "He is not always the creature you saw. I know he can be saved."

"He is an abomination, possessed by a demon spirit," Morrigan said. "The only clear option is to kill him."

"Wait! Wait! That mage, the one in my dungeon. He may know something," the Arlessa said.

"He was still alive, last we saw of him," Loghaina said. "I doubt he can add anything to the conversation."

"I will bring him," Bann Teagan said, restored to himself by the blow to the head. "If he tries anything, I will kill him."

He returned from the dungeon in a few minutes' time with the mage in tow.

"After everything you've done, Jowan, you are lucky to be alive," the Arlessa said.

"You want to know how to save your son?" the mage said. "It can be done, by killing the demon in the Fade."

"I do not understand. Is the demon not within Connor?"

"Not exactly. A mage can meet it head on in the Fade and do battle with it. But in order to kill it, they must enter the Fade in physical form, which is not easy. It usually takes dozens of mages and lots of lyrium. But I…I have blood magic."

"What difference does that make?" Loghain asked.

"I can perform a ritual to send a mage into the Fade to battle the demon, using someone's blood. But it will take a lot of blood. It will take…all of it."

"So someone must _die_ to save this boy?" Loghaina said.

"Then let it be me," the Arlessa said, without hesitation. "Use my blood."

"Well, at least she behaves as a mother ought. Give her her wish," Loghain said.

"Can we even trust this Jowan to do as he says?" Wynne said.

"It's either the boy or the boy's mother," Loghaina said. "Arlessa, are you certain you're willing to do this?"

"Of course. If someone must die to save my child, it will be me."

"Wait - " Alistair said. "Nobody has to die. We can get lyrium and mages at the Circle. They owe us."

"That's a hike of a full day, there and back," Loghain said. "In the meanwhile, Connor will have destroyed Redcliffe."

"Morrigan, are you willing to go and fight the demon, or must I convince Wynne to do this?" Loghaina asked.

"I am willing," Morrigan said, with an offhanded casualness.

"All right. Jowan, you'd better not cross us, or it will be the last thing you do," Loghaina said. "Proceed with the ritual with all haste."

"All right. Is everybody ready?" he asked. "I am…sorry about this." He cut his hand, blood flowed from the wound, and a red light caught the Arlessa round the middle. She rose into the air, levitated by foul forces, and with a sickening sploosh her blood gushed out of her eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and presumably her other orifices as well. A hole opened in the air itself, and with a flippant little wave, Morrigan stepped through it and disappeared to sight. Those left behind had to sit and watch as the grisly ritual kept the portal open long enough for Morrigan to do what needed doing and return, a task of nearly an hour.

Morrigan stepped back through the hole in the air. "'Tis done. The demon is dead, and the boy, for it is worth, is saved," she said. "I suppose that means the wretched village is saved, as well."

Bann Teagan headed out of the room in the direction the boy had gone. "I must see for myself."

The others followed him, more to get away from the sight of the Arlessa's drained and twisted corpse than anything else. Loghain kept a tight grip on Jowan's shoulder.

"It is over," Bann Teagan said, after some time. "Connor is his old self again. I suppose he will have to be sent to the Circle now, for training. But Isolde is dead. Eamon will have much to mourn and to rebuild, should he waken from his illness."

Loghaina yawned a yawn so wide it looked as though her head might topple off. The others were in similar straits, for the most part.

"My friends, I know you are weary, but please, let us speak of Eamon," Bann Teagan said. "Isolde sent the knights of Redcliffe on a quest to recover an ancient artifact that could supposedly cure him. The urn of sacred ashes. There was a scholar, living in Denerim, who was researching the subject and believed the urn was here in Ferelden. I am…not so certain as she was that the urn exists, or that it promises a cure if it does, but…but we have exhausted all other options. You are skilled. Please, won't you track down Brother Genitivi? He is Eamon's last hope."

Loghaina's weary eyes popped open wide. "The urn of sacred ashes? You mean Andraste's final resting place?"

"A wild goose chase," Loghain said.

"The darkspawn are our mission. Not dying noblemen," Sten said.

"We'll find the urn," Loghaina said, and jaws dropped.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Still in Redcliffe Castle**

Loghain spoke through clenched teeth. "Warden Tabris, if I might speak with you in private?" He led her out of the room and down the hall, and then rounded on her. _"What _are you _thinking? _Have you lost your mind? Your kind claims that this darkspawn incursion is a Blight, and yet you would set that aside to go chasing off after something that doesn't exist? To save _Eamon Guerrin_, a man who is of no use to you whatsoever?"

"The man is of no use, the urn might be of _great _use," she said.

"You can see a use for an _imaginary object, _can you?" he said.

"Why imaginary? Andraste existed: her tomb must exist, also. Why not in Ferelden, where she was born? If one knew the location of the urn of sacred ashes, think of the _power_ that would give them! Ferelden needs power, doesn't it? To stave off the Orlesians."

"What power would knowledge of the location of Andraste's final resting place grant Ferelden?" he asked. "I foresee holy wars, idiots marching behind upraised swords, come to liberate the prophetess from the barbarians."

"Well then, we keep the knowledge to ourselves," Loghaina said. "Imagine it! The ashes are said to cure any ailment! What more could have been accomplished if certain individuals had been cured instead of succumbing to their diseases? Imagine if Queen Rowan had lived!"

His eyes grew wide, and he took a step back from her. His breathing seemed to become tight and strained. "You…make a fair point. But I don't know of anyone else who I would go so far out of my way to save, and certainly not Eamon Guerrin."

"Oh no? What of Anora? If she were to get sick, or be poisoned like Arl Eamon, wouldn't you go to the ends of the earth to save her? Kings and queens are poisoned all the time. Arl Eamon is the perfect test of the ashes: if it will save him, when all other hope is gone, it will save anyone."

His brows lowered, raised, and lowered again as his face went through a series of scowling convulsions. "I want him _dead," _he said at last.

Loghaina raised a brow. "So. You _did_ order the assassination."

"I did not. But would I have done, had Howe brought to me a golden opportunity to do so? In a heartbeat. The man is poisoning Ferelden from the inside out."

"You'd have sent an apostate to kill him?"

"No. Howe took a foolish risk entrusting such a task to an amateur, and overstepped his bounds quite drastically by ordering this assassination in my name. I intend to reprimand him severely."

"To _reprimand _him. For ordering a murder in your name. I'd _kill_ the bastard. Why are you so forgiving of him?"

"I need him."

"For what? Shameless toadying?"

"He understands politics, and he explains it to me in a way that doesn't make me feel stupid for not getting it myself." He spit out the words like they were poisonous and he had to get them out quickly.

"What?" Loghaina was almost laughing. _"That's _his indispensable use to you? You could hire a dozen advisors to 'explain politics' to you."

His chest heaved in and out with his breath, and she realized watching it that he couldn't do that, because it would be an admission of failure, of fallibility. His pride, his damnable, stiff-necked pride, would not allow it. And so he kept this greasy man by his side, not because he liked him or even particularly trusted him, but because the man had a hold over him, knowing his secret.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I am going to find the urn of sacred ashes, for Ferelden's sake. I am going to save Arl Eamon, as a test to see if they work. You're either with me or against me. You've followed me this far, and for some reason you've deferred to me along the way. I won't ask you to go further. But I _will _do this, and you will not stand in my way."

"What if you can't find them?" he said.

"Then I won't waste a lot of time looking for them. We'll go to Denerim, try and track down this Genitivi. Sounds to me like a perfect opportunity for you to find out word of the kingdom, get rid of those letters, and 'reprimand' your right-hand man. If we can't pick up his trail, I won't waste any more of our time."

"You're really obdurate about this?"

"I don't know what that word means, but the answer is most likely yes."

His lips curved upward in a faint smile. "It means 'stubborn,' a word that describes you perfectly, Tabris."

"Takes one to know one. Are you with me, or do part company now?"

He shook his head, and made his wind braids swing. "I don't agree with your reasoning behind this wild goose chase, not in the light of what this country faces, but you made a good point about Anora and…and Rowan. I'll go with you, and if we actually _find_ these bloody ashes I'll salute you."

She turned away, back toward the room where the others were. "Good. I'm glad you're with me."

He grabbed her by the arm and turned her back around. "Admit it: you may have come up with a somewhat logical reason to go haring off after this urn, but the truth of the matter is, you just want to find the damned thing, don't you? You've got a wild hair."

"I got it from my mother," she said.

"You realize that if you give the location of the urn to the nobility, they'll utterly control who gets the use of it?"

"That's what would happen in any event. But _I_ will know where it is. There's nothing stopping me from telling whomever I wish. They may find it difficult to keep the common man away."

"And you expect people to believe you when you tell them?"

"Humans won't. Elves will. The ones that pooh-pooh me will just have to make do."

He chuckled. "You really are something else, Tabris. I'm not sure what, yet. You'd really have walked away from me, if I said I would have nothing to do with this quest of yours?"

"I wouldn't have wanted to, but yes."

"What if I'd said I intended to stop you, at any cost?"

"Then I would have had to fight you. _Really_ not something I'd want to do, so I'm glad things did not progress to that point. They're _not _progressing to that point, are they?"

"You stood up to me. I may doubt your wisdom, but I applaud your strength."

He reached out, took her face in his hand, and leaned down to kiss her hard on the mouth. It took her breath away, and robbed her knees of strength. "What happened to, 'Lets keep it at friends?'" she asked, when she could.

"I've had time to reappraise my answer," he said. "If your offer still stands, I would take you up on it."

"Will you give me a backrub?" she asked.

"My lady, it would be my pleasure. Come, let us return to the others and harass Bann Teagan into giving us rooms. The others need their sleep, and having sex in Eamon's house seems to me a decent compensation for the possibility that we'll end up saving the bastard."


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Lingering in Redcliffe Castle**

They managed to get an hour's sleep, or perhaps a little more, before the clamor in Loghaina's stomach woke both of them. She'd missed breakfast, and her Warden's appetite was begging her not to miss luncheon as well. Still, she lingered in the borrowed bed, with her hands pressed against his bare chest.

"I've never been in a bed like this before," she said. "What is this mattress stuffed with?"

"I'd guess horse hair," he said.

"It's much nicer than straw. Do you think someday _I'll _have a bed like this?"

"I don't see it. I'd peg you as a _feather_ mattress person, if I had to take a guess."

"They stuff mattresses with _feathers?" _she asked.

"Some people. Fussy damned things, feather mattresses."

"Perfect for me, right?" She giggled. "Tell me about your first time."

"On a feather mattress?"

"On _any_ mattress. I'm not talking about your first time sleeping."

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Why on earth do you want to hear about my first time?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she said.

He scoffed, then settled back down on his side, facing her. "I was sixteen. At least, I told _her_ I was sixteen."

She blinked at him, and smiled broadly. "Very well, so how old were you _really?"_

"I _believe_ I was fifteen," he said, but he looked shifty.

It was her turn to scoff. "All right, so you were _fourteen," _she said. "What happened?"

"It was…a bad year. In an Age of bad years. There were food shortages and game was scarce. People went about hungry most of the time, and that was people with homes and land. Those of us on the fringes were starving by slow degrees. I…did something I didn't ordinarily do. I went into town. Going into town meant going under the eye of the law, which meant _Orlesian_ law, by which standard my mere existence broke ordinances. I came to a little house on the outskirts, a ratty place, half falling apart. I didn't see any menfolk, just an older woman. Not elderly, just older. Careworn. I stood there, outside her door, and I guess I thought about robbing the place, but she saw me, and she came out onto the stoop. Asked me what I wanted. I told her I'd gladly do any work she had around the place in exchange for a meal."

"You chickened out," Loghaina said.

"I prefer to think my better nature asserted itself," Loghain said. "You're probably right, though. In any event, she brought me inside. She didn't have much herself, but she shared what she had with me. And while I ate, she talked about herself, about how she married and came here from the city to live on a farm, how her husband died young and left her to manage the place with no real idea how it was done, how the long years had made her lonely and cold. So when I had finished, she took me back to her bedroom, and…that was my first time."

She laughed at him. "So your first time was an act of prostitution. Sex for food."

"Hey, I was a fourteen year old boy. She didn't have to feed me to get sex out of me." He poked her in the shoulder. "Now it's your turn. I _believe _that was the deal, sordid as it may be."

"Oh, I don't want to tell you, now. By comparison, my story is so bland."

"Out with it."

She took a deep breath and let it out heavily. "All right. I was…I _believe_…fourteen."

"All right, you were thirteen. I'm with you so far."

"There was this boy in the alienage, very handsome, blond hair, big blue eyes. He promised me that if I'd…'do it' with him, he'd buy me a bag of horehound candy."

He burst out laughing. "So you're the same as I? Sex for food?"

"I didn't do it for the food, either!" she said, and laughed. "Good thing, too, because I never got my candy. He couldn't afford it."

"Well, that's a rotten story."

"I told you."

"What happened to your fellow? You didn't cut his balls off for breaking his promise, did you?"

"No. We went our separate ways. Eventually he ran off to find the Dalish. Nobody ever heard from him again after that."

"Maybe he did find them."

"Maybe so. I didn't used to think they were even real, just a fairy tale made up by elves tired of being constantly stepped on. A dream."

"Thinking about joining them yourself?"

"It would be kind of nice, if I could get used to the lifestyle, but no. I'm a Grey Warden now. I get a little bit of respect for that, from most people. I'll take it."

"You're worthy of a good deal more than a modicum."

"There's another one of those words I don't know."

He chuckled. "It means 'a little bit.'"

"If I let Wynne teach me how to read, will I eventually start talking all hoity toity like you?"

"Possibly. Probably, even."

"Hmm. Incentive."

"You like the way I talk?"

"It seems like it'd be a great way to put people down. When they don't even know just how they've been insulted, how can they come back at you with anything?"

"I find it works fairly well for that. Unfortunately, most of the people I like to put down know all of the same words I do."

She put her arms behind her head and stared at the canopy that hung over the bed. "I won't have to worry much about that. At best I'll be hanging around other Grey Wardens from now on, and they don't seem a very uppity bunch, from what little I've seen. I'm dying, did you know that?" She said this last suddenly, as if it had just popped into her mind. "Alistair says I've got thirty years, give or take. The taint eventually kills you, just like it killed poor Daveth straight out of the gate. I'll get to spend my last days fighting darkspawn in the Deep Roads, assuming the Archdemon doesn't kill me, first. That, and I am now infertile, or at least extremely unlikely to ever have a baby. Being a Grey Warden is just a load of jolly, isn't it?"

"Did you know that _before _you joined?" he asked.

"Nope, not a bit of it. Doesn't matter, though. Duncan still saved my life. If he hadn't conscripted me, they'd have hanged me. So I can't complain."

"It still seems very unfair. They should let you know what you're getting yourself in for before they put you through the Joining."

"Would anybody join if they knew?"

"A _Grey Warden _would."

"You have a point. But I think naturally-born Grey Wardens are a little thinner on the field than the Grey Wardens would like."

"I don't know. Sell your cause properly, people fall all over themselves to fight and die for you. We're like lemmings. Just point us at a cliff and we'll rampage right off it into the deep end of the ocean."

"I miss the ocean. Every day I think there's something missing, and I realize what it is: the sound of the surf on the docks and all the seabirds."

"You should hear it in Gwaren. The sea rages against the breakwaters. And screaming gulls and terns everywhere."

"What's Gwaren like? I never hear much about it."

"That's because it's tiny, not even as big as Redcliffe. But it's _pretty, _in its way. All the fences are made of fieldstone, and some of the houses, too. And then there's the rose gardens all around the Keep. Then too, it doesn't smell so bad as Redcliffe. There's fishing there, but most of the people work the forest or the land. Mostly it smells of good wood smoke, not fish."

"Do you spend much time there?"

"Very little. Most of my work is done in Denerim, and…there's no one there, now."

"You mean your wife?"

"My _late_ wife, yes. The rose gardens were hers."

The conversation had turned down an awkward path. To put the subject by, Loghaina hopped out of bed and began to put on her clothes.

"I'm starving. I hope we can harass some _victuals_ from Bann Teagan before we put a few miles from this place. How do you like _that_ fifty-sovereign word?"

"I won't be sorry to see the back of this place," Loghain said. He rose and put on his own clothing. "Place always seemed so pompous. I suppose because the Guerrins are _Old Blood, _and Eamon the proudest proponent of such nonsense."

"It certainly is dark and drab. If I had a castle, I'd cover the walls with the most colorful tapestries and beautiful paintings I could find. Anything to relieve the dark and cold."

She headed for the door. Loghain grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. He kissed her, and then he said, "Are you absolutely certain there is no way I can talk you down from this course you're set on?"

"That again? You know, 'obdurate' is a word that describes you, too."

"Yes, it is."

"I'm going to find the ashes."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't. But wait. Conquer the Blight. Hope that Eamon dies. _Then_ go find the ashes. I'll gladly go with you."

"I can't wait. I might be dead soon. I can't explain to you why I think this is so important, but it is. If one elf is able to make that pilgrimage, thanks to my knowledge, and find a blessing or a bit of sanctity or _whatever_ the ashes might bring them, then its worth the risk. To me."

He sighed. "I was afraid of that. Well, I'll follow you. I said I would. But don't expect me to be cheery company."

"Ha! I hadn't expected that from the start, and I haven't been disappointed."


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: The Road to Denerim**

To say that there was tension as they headed back in the direction of Denerim would be to put it lightly. While Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne all agreed that finding the ashes was a good thing, Sten, Morrigan, and of course Loghain did not believe this was the time or, in Morrigan's case, that there _was_ a time for such a quest. But the greatest source of tension stemmed from the fact that Loghaina sold her tent. There was not even the pretense of covering up what had happened - what would _continue_ to happen - between her and Loghain. Morrigan sniffed at the relationship, and said at least she showed better taste than to accept Alistair's advances, Leliana giggled over the pair, and Sten chose to ignore it utterly, his opinions locked behind his always-inscrutable countenance. Alistair and Wynne, on the other hand, made no secret of the fact they found the relationship…_inappropriate._

Loghaina ignored the comments, jibes, and sniffs. She knew she wasn't winning any popularity contests: Alistair was angry she hadn't gone running to the Circle for help in saving Connor, and most likely Wynne was, too. She didn't care what they thought of her, or not much at any rate. She couldn't justify sacrificing a village full of people to save one woman. Perhaps she couldn't even justify the use of blood magic in saving one little boy, but it had seemed like the right thing to do. She thought about Jowan, how he'd been willing to help in spite of what he had done. The spectacle was one she was not eager to see repeated, but the power…a man with that kind of power could be very useful. _Duncan, _she thought, would have conscripted him. But she did not know how to make new Wardens.

"I could conscript him anyway, if they don't kill him while we're gone," she said. She did not realize she'd said it aloud until Loghain poked her in the shoulder.

"Who are you talking about?" he asked.

"Jowan, that mage back in Redcliffe. His magic could be very useful."

"That it could. You intend to invoke the Right of Conscription? You have that power, you're the closest thing to a Warden Commander Ferelden has."

"I might at that. Odd, I never considered the fact that I had a certain degree of _power_ before now."

"Are you going to let it go to your head?" he asked.

She laughed. "I might, just a little."

They made camp, a little less than a full day's march from the city. It was Alistair's turn to cook again, unfortunately, so Loghaina settled in crosslegged next to Loghain with Gravy's head on her lap once camp was pitched and the privy was dug. They had scrounged a few scant provisions from the grateful citizens of Redcliffe before they put it behind them, but they were already down to hardtack and whatever could be hunted. Tonight's supper was a rather small rabbit that went toward making a watery stew. The unpalatability of the fare was not wholly due to Alistair's skills as a chef de cuisine.

They talked in hushed voices over their meal. "How did you meet your wife?" Loghaina asked Loghain.

He laughed. "She brought me flowers," he said.

She laughed at him. "Brought you flowers? This I have to hear."

"I was wounded in the Battle of River Dane. It wasn't life-threatening, but it put me out of action for some weeks. I was taken back to our base at Gwaren to recuperate. She came to my tent with a bunch of flowers from her garden, to 'cheer' me. I don't remember now what I said to her. Something unforgivable, no doubt. But Celia had a remarkable capacity for forgiveness."

"Was she very pretty?"

"Yes."

"How did you go from saying unforgivable things about her flowers to marrying her?"

"I'm still not entirely certain," he said. "As the old folks used to say, she 'set her hat for me,' and I guess I was easy prey."

"I might have expected you'd be hard to tie down. Too busy, and too adventurous."

He smiled thinly. "I was never so adventurous as you seem to think, particularly where women are concerned."

"Oh come on, there must have been dozens of women after you. _Hundreds."_

"Why? Because I'm so bloody handsome?" he said, with the half of a grin. "I don't think I've ever been what ladies consider a 'catch.'"

"Oh come on, just being a _soldier_ is enough for a lot of women. General and Teyrn? You'd have to _beat _'em off of you."

"Well, I've never found myself swarmed."

"Well, I don't entirely believe you, but maybe you were just not paying attention." She patted him on the knee. "Don't worry about all this talk of women and marriage. I don't own a hat."

She stood up and stretched. "I'm going to stand first watch. Will you take second?"

"Why split us up?"

"I'm spending too much time just with you. It's inappropriate."

"True. Very well, then. I'll take second watch."

Leliana volunteered to stand first watch with Loghaina. She was probably the only one remaining who cared to spend any time alone with her, a thought that bothered her more than she might have expected it to. They were quiet while the others settled in to sleep.

"I think it is a good thing, your Bloomingtide-Haring romance," Leliana said in a whisper, after the moon was well up. "You are well-suited to each other, despite the difference in your ages. We spoke of this before, yes? And then, of course, you are named for him. It is like it was written in the stars."

"It's not a romance."

"No? What do you call it, then, that you share the same tent at night?"

"I don't know that there's a word for it. We're friends…who sleep together."

"Well, I think it is _very_ romantic, in a…_pragmatic_ sort of way."

"I don't really feel comfortable discussing it, Leliana. Can we just keep watch?"

* * *

**A/N:** For a very short, pointless chapter it was certainly difficult to write. The problem was I didn't think it was strictly necessary, of course, but now its out there, a break for time between Redcliffe and Denerim, and I can move on to bigger and better things. I have a couple of strong ideas for Denerim, but unfortunately they're mutually exclusive of each other so we'll have to see which one I finally decide on.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Back in Denerim**

As they walked out of Brother Genitivi's little house in what was still the early morning hours, Alistair gave Loghaina a look of pure admiration, the first she had received in quite some time from that quarter.

"That was purely brilliant, the way you talked that man into giving himself up," he said. "How did you know he was some sort of plant?"

"He was too nervous, and knew too much," Loghaina said. "This Genitivi must have been on to _something_. We'll follow his research to this Haven and hope we come up with something to show for the long walk. For now, let's just get resupplied. I had hoped we could spend the night indoors tonight, but the alienage has been locked down for some reason."

"Would you have brought us to your father's house?" Loghain asked. "We're rather a large party to spring on the man all at once."

"We could have slept on the floor," Loghaina said. "The real issue wouldn't be the size of the party but the people in it. The alienage gets very uncomfortable around humans, particularly armed humans."

"You seem to forget that I have a home in the city. I can put us all up for the night, without difficulty, and no one need be made uncomfortable."

She blushed. "I did forget. Come on, let's get our supplies"

Loghain put a hand on her shoulder. "Delegate. I want you to come with me to the palace."

"Why?"

"I want you with me. Isn't that enough?"

She shrugged. "All right. Alistair, can you take care of the supplies?"

"Of course. Leave me to do the shopping while you pay a social call on the Queen," he said, with a considerable amount of snark.

"I can put someone else in charge, you know."

"No, no. I'll take care of it. Go…do what you've got to do."

"Thank you. It's good to know I can depend on you." She tried to sound as sincere as possible. She didn't need any more tension between them than there already was.

There was considerable tension inside of her as she followed Loghain's footsteps towards the palace district. It was easy, somehow, to forget that he was the most powerful man in the kingdom at the moment. But the _Queen_…not so easy. In her filthy leathers, with her hair many days from its last even half-hearted washing, she didn't feel equal to a visit to the royal palace. She didn't know why he'd asked - asked? Nay, _commanded_ - her to come along.

And she wondered if he wondered the same thing. She was hard-pressed to keep up with his long-legged stride, and it seemed as if he meant to leave her behind. Perhaps he was just intent upon his destination. Perhaps he had forgotten her. His single-mindedness at times made that a distinct possibility.

The guardsmen at the palace doors scrambled to open them in time, for Loghain did not slow his stride in the slightest. They made some abortive move to halt Loghaina, but subsided back into position without barring her passage. Loghain barked to a servant who bustled up to them.

"Where's my daughter? In the salon? Don't bother announcing us, we'll let ourselves in," he said, and indeed, there was little need to be announced since his booming voice could no doubt be heard through every inch of the castle. Loghaina wondered if he always made such a dramatic entrance, or if there was something on which she was missing out, some key piece of information she lacked.

He burst open the doors to what she could only assume was the salon, and they slammed into the walls hard. "Well, what kind of mess are we facing?" he asked, without preamble.

Evidently unruffled, the cool blonde put down her teacup and raised one well-plucked eyebrow. "What makes you assume there is any kind of mess at all, Father?" she said.

He half-laughed, half-scoffed. "I _left_ the place in a mess, Anora. It would please me no end to learn that you had somehow managed to sort it all."

The Queen grimaced and sighed. "I wish it were so, but honesty forces me to admit that all is not well. Refugees are flooding out of the southern portion of the nation, and still the nobility will clash over the fact that, in name at least, you are Regent."

"Has there been fighting?"

"Some. Cauthrien has dealt well with it, but even one battle is one more than we can well afford. Our forces are stretched thin, battling the nobles. Soon we may not have enough left to fight the darkspawn."

"Damnation. Blasted nobility, all they're good for is squabbling amongst themselves like rats over a bit of meat."

Anora's gaze landed upon Loghaina, and she cleared her throat expectantly. "Are you going to introduce to me our guest, Father, or is it to be a surprise?"

"What? Oh. This is…Warden Commander Tabris."

And just like that, she was Warden Commander, at least in the eyes of Ferelden government. Loghaina had no clue how the greater Order operated. For all she knew, that was all it took. The Queen stood up and came toward her, statuesque and, to Loghaina's eyes at least, incredibly tall.

"Warden Commander. It is good that we have this chance to meet in person. How fare your preparations against the darkspawn?"

Decidedly stumble-tongued, Loghaina stammered out a greeting and sketched a nervous curtsey. "Our…preparations…fare well, Your Majesty," she said. "We have gained the Circle and the help of the Dalish; next we shall be moving on to…assist in securing the bannorn of Redcliffe - "

"Hmph!" Loghain said.

" - and then we will go to Orzammar and enlist the aid of the dwarves," she finished, as if she had not been interrupted.

"You are aiding Redcliffe?" Anora said. "How fares Arl Eamon? I had learnt he was ill."

"It's too bad he's not _dead," _Loghain said.

"He is quite ill, Your Majesty, but we are on the trail of a cure," Loghaina said.

Loghain pulled the sheaf of Cailan's documents from his pouch and shoved them into Anora's hands. "That bastard wrote to Cailan _imploring_ him to set you aside in favor of a 'more suitable' wife. And look - just _look_ who the daft fool intended to replace you with!"

Anora sat down and read through the letters. Her face grew very pale as she read. She passed a hand over her eyes and set the letters aside.

"I knew…I knew there was talk. I knew some in the kingdom were calling for a new Queen. That Cailan was actually considering it I did not know. Who he chose as the best candidate is, I needn't say, more than a trifle disturbing. What could he have been thinking? I feel I need to ask this, Father: are you certain these documents are not forgeries?"

"We found them in Cailan's lockbox on the site of the army camp at Ostagar," he said. "It's hard to say if they were forged, for you know _that bitch _doesn't write her own missives, she has servants do it for her. But I think we have no choice but to treat them as genuine. To do otherwise could well be suicidal."

"We don't need this, on top of all else," Anora said. "I will have to bring this to the attention of the nobility, of course. Cailan's death seems to have dashed Celene's hopes of reclaiming us peacefully. If she decides to try force we will need to stand together, not apart."

"I wish you luck with that. The big picture is something our nobles are not well equipped to see unless forced," Loghain said.

"On that subject, Father, I wish to speak with you about Arl - my apologies, _Teyrn _- Howe. I will not have the man on my staff, and that is final. He claims that since he was appointed by _you, _the Regent, I have no power to dismiss him, and so I leave it with you, Father, to get rid of that _odious_ little man. Do you know what he had the audacity to say to me? Well, I shall not repeat the exact words in the company of the Warden Commander. Suffice to say it was insufferably rude and I will not tolerate it."

"I will speak with Howe, Anora. If I might ask, what had him upset?"

She stood, looked him dead in the eye, and squared her shoulders. "He was angry that I entreated the Wardens of Orlais for assistance."

"_You what?!" _Loghain's voice bounced off the roof beams and echoed back a thousand times over. He went off into a torrent of invective as his face grew redder and redder. Loghaina feared that if someone did not calm him soon, he would have a brain storm and die on the spot.

"_Six _Wardens of Jader arrived at the border not quite a fortnight ago and were escorted to Denerim by a full contingent of soldiers. No Chevaliers. I am not such a fool as that. But we have but two Wardens left in Ferelden, and both, from my understanding, rather green - no offense, Warden Commander. Some experienced assistance seemed called for. They are at the Warden Compound, ready to assist, at my insistence, _under the command _of our own Wardens. Senior Warden Riordan stands ready to induct more Wardens into the Ferelden Order, which are sorely needed. They have spent their time in the city recruiting, and I have it to understand they have several candidates."

"_We don't need them," _Loghain said.

"Yes, we do," Loghaina said. "I have no idea how to induct other Wardens into the Order, and neither does Alistair. If they do nothing more for us than that they'll be a godsend."

Anora favored her with a triumphant smile, and then her expression changed, grew thoughtful, and perhaps a trifle worried. She glanced from Loghaina to her father and back again.

"It was a foolish risk to take, Anora," Loghain said. "You should know better."

"Desperate times make for strange bedfellows," Anora said, and she said it in a tone of voice that suggested she might not solely be referring to Ferelden and Orlais. "It isn't as though I've invited a legion of Chevaliers to camp on our front stoop, Father. It is one-half dozen Grey Wardens who will be under Warden Commander Tabris's orders and _your_ watchful eye. For I assume this visit is only temporary, and you intend to continue traveling with the Wardens?"

"Now more than ever," Loghain said. "Slippery bastards will take a _great deal _of watching over. I cannot believe you would do this, Anora. I feel betrayed."

"You will have to get over it," Anora said. "I've done only what required doing, as you have always taught me. Now, see that you have words with Teyrn Howe. His ambitions and his ruthlessness may have resulted in his becoming Teyrn, but he is still no more than your toady to me, and I will not suffer to be cursed by such a man."

He threw up his hands in frustration and surrender, and burst out of the room in much the same way he'd burst into it, leaving Loghaina, who had no idea of the rules of etiquette regarding royal persons - i.e., you wait to be dismissed, you do not turn your back on the royal person - to tip another awkward curtsey and scramble off in pursuit.

Loghain came to a room that seemed to be appointed as an office of sorts, with a writing desk before a blazing hearth. He shouted to a servant to fetch him Teyrn Howe, and went to a sideboard table where an array of drinks in cut crystal carafes stood waiting.

"Something?" he asked Loghaina, as he poured himself a tumbler of rich amber whiskey.

"I don't think I've got the taste for anything stronger than ale," she said.

"Have some sherry. You'll like it."

"It's not hot, is it?"

He laughed. "Sweet and smooth, with just a hint of burn."

"Well, I'll try it."

He poured her a glass, and she took a tentative sip. It was almost sickeningly sweet, but the burn was actually rather nice. She proceeded on with it cautiously.

Teyrn Howe came in, the guards at the door outside saluted him as he passed. He was a grey-haired, weasel-faced man who, Loghaina thought, did superficially resemble Loghain if you weren't too sure about the color of his eyes, or the shape of his jaw, or the sheer size of him. Someone who had seen only a badly-done portrait from just after the Rebellion could be forgiven - barely - for the mistake.

"Welcome back to Denerim, Sire," Howe said, with a bow. "You wished to speak to me?"

"What's this I hear about you cursing at Anora?" Loghain said.

A fleeting expression crossed the Teyrn's face. Loghaina couldn't catch it quick enough to read it, but she thought it was anger. She thought it a far more genuine expression than the look of servile placidity he replaced it with, whatever the look had been.

"I beg your forgiveness, Sire. Her Majesty took such an unnecessary risk, bringing those Orlesians into the country. I'm afraid I forgot myself."

"Clearly so, and it's _her_ forgiveness you ought to be begging. Don't let me hear about any more such incidents. You'll look mighty strange running to the healer with me hopping along behind you on one foot with my boot shoved up your ass."

"Understood, Sire."

"Now…let's discuss this _mage_ you sent to assassinate Arl Eamon."

Another fleeting expression crossed the Teyrn's face. This time Loghaina recognized it as surprise.

"What in the Maker's name were you thinking, sending a rank amateur to perform a tricky mission like that?" Loghain demanded. "I thought you had more sense."

"My apologies, Sire. It seemed a golden opportunity."

"Well, I'll have you to know he messed up big. Eamon still lives, for the moment at least, and the Arlessa and most of the village is dead. How did you even know the Arlessa was looking to hire a mage?"

"One of her servants was making inquiries, Sire. I keep my ear to the ground."

"So it was a rushed opportunity. I can forgive that. What I cannot so easily forgive is the fact that this mage believed he was acting under _my_ orders. Did you deceive him deliberately? I'll have the _truth, _Howe."

"I…_allowed_ him to make an assumption, Sire. Your forgiveness, I beg. Your cachet with the common man is so great, I thought it would insure a greater chance of success."

"Don't ever do it again. My name is my own. I'll not have it assumed by every Tom, Dick, and Harry."

"Yes, Sire."

"You let him off too easily," Loghaina said.

Howe looked at her, for the first time, and doubtless it was the first time he'd seen her. _"What? _Sire, who is this…_woman?"_

"Warden Commander Tabris," Loghain said, and it seemed to be her introduction, and not the command it sounded like.

"And who is she to speak in our company?" Howe demanded. "Sire, I am outraged - "

"You are dismissed, Howe."

"Sire, I - "

"_Dismissed, _Howe. It means leave."

The man's mouth snapped shut with an audible click, he bowed, and backed his way out of the room, to another salute from the guards. Loghain crossed to the sideboard and poured another drink for himself. "Would you like another, Tabris?"

"Thank you, I'm fine."

"I am sorry to make you wait, but I see a stack of requests and petitions awaiting my attention. Do you mind very much? I should take care of them now while I've got the chance."

"I don't mind waiting."

He sat down at his desk and began reading, and occasionally signing his name with an eagle quill pen. Loghaina sipped her sherry and waited patiently. He seemed to be a fast reader, or at least a skimmer, so he made good progress on the stack of parchments in relatively short order. He was almost finished when the guards announced the return of Teyrn Howe.

"Yes, what do you want?" Loghain asked, rather tiredly.

"To make amends, Sire," Howe said. He was not alone. A tall, bald-headed man with a neatly trimmed goatee and fine robes stood with him. "I am sure you are aware that there have been several clashes with nobility angry at your assumption of the Regency."

"Yes."

"Perhaps then you are also aware that our treasury is _bleeding_ money. With half the nobles refusing to surrender their taxes, and the other half suffering greatly beneath the darkspawn attack, there is a great deal of coin going out, and next to none coming in. I can present a solution, with your permission."

"I'm listening."

"Allow me to present Magister Caladrius, of the Tevinter Empire. He has the solution to our treasury woes."

Loghain's lip curled. "A Tevinter. Wonderful. Well, what is this proposal? Make it quick, I've got work to do."

Caladrius glided forward. His voice was even slicker and greasier than Howe's, and set Loghaina's teeth on edge. "I represent the interests of a collective seeking unskilled labor to fill the insatiable need for such in my homeland. We are willing to pay quite handsomely for 'workers.'"

He presented a contract. Loghain took it and looked it over. "A hundred sovereigns a head? Handsome indeed. From what quarter would you take these unskilled workers? Ferelden needs them, too, you know."

"From the alienage, Sire," Howe supplied. "You know there has been a great deal of trouble there since they murdered the late Arl's son and his guards. And now there is plague. Clearing the place would be…_merciful_. Should the darkspawn attack, there would be no saving the elves."

Loghaina sat forward on her seat. She wasn't quite certain what she was hearing, but she didn't like it.

Loghain continued to read through the document. His grey eyes flicked up at a certain passage as if yanked, and landed on Caladrius.

"This is a _slaver's_ contract," he said baldly. "There is no slavery in Ferelden."

"And there will _be_ no slavery in Ferelden," Caladrius said. "I will take them to Tevinter. As to the legality of the contract within Ferelden borders, well…we are both realistic men, are we not? We both know that slavers operate, in minor groups, in your country. We pay your nobles a small gratuity to ensure they look the other way, and we take only those who will not be missed. What could be missed less than an alienage full of sick and rebellious elves?"

Loghaina tried to cry out, but her voice was stolen away by shock. She stared hard at Loghain, with wide eyes, willing him to tear up the contract and arrest the man who brought it to him. Instead, Loghain looked back down and continued to read. He reached for his pen.

"_No!" _she cried, and leapt from her chair. She had her daggers out before she even knew she was reaching for them.

Loghain did not look up. "Restrain her," he said. The guards rushed in and piled onto her, which knocked the blades from her hands. _"Gently," _he admonished, and the surprised guardsmen hesitated a moment before climbing off her back and grabbing her hard by the arms. She struggled in their grasp as Loghain moved the pen towards the signature line. Tears stung her eyes.

"You can't do this! They're _people!"_

That hand moved inexorably toward the signature line, but hesitated when it got there. He seemed to pause for thought. He looked up at Caladrius and Howe, who nodded encouragingly, and then back down at the parchment. He began to sign his name.

"_Nooooo!" _Loghaina shrieked, and collapsed so that she hung from the guards' restraining hands. She hung her head and let the tears fall unheeded to the floor.

Loghain looked up at her, then, for the first time. He stared for a good long moment, and then back down at the document. He stood, picked up the parchment, and tore it into shreds.

"If I ever catch word that you are operating within Ferelden borders, it will be the last thing you ever do," Loghain said to Caladrius. "I suggest you get out of here before I have you arrested."

"I am sorry we could not come to an agreement," Caladrius said, with narrowed eyes, and fled.

"Release her," Loghain commanded, and the guards did so, so abruptly that Loghaina fell forward. She let herself fall, and lay there in a heap with her face buried in her arms, sobbing. Loghain came around to the front of his desk and knelt before her. He placed one hand flat on her back and rubbed gently. Howe saw this and his own eyes narrowed into slits.

"My Lord, what you do in your own bed is your business, but when you let it interfere with the running of the kingdom - "

"You don't want to finish that sentence," Loghain said, as he looked up with flinty eyes. "I suggest you leave as well, Howe, before my boot in your ass is the least of your worries."

"My Lord," Howe said, bowed, and left.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Alienage**

She didn't know how long she lay there, crumpled and crying on the floor, while Loghain knelt beside her and rubbed her back, the way he might rub the back of a child who was sick. Time lost its meaning in tears, as her brain pounded to a repetitious refrain of: _He didn't sign it. He didn't sign it._

_He_ almost _signed it._

She reached out for him, and he had to help her to her feet. She hated herself for the weakness she felt, a weakness that found her still crumpled against his chest, sobbing. They were tears of relief, mostly, but there were other feelings mixed in. Quite a number of other feelings, none of them so pleasant. He continued to rub her back as he held her. He didn't murmur any comforting words to her, which was perhaps for the best.

At long last she felt a little stronger, strong enough at least to stand on her own two feet. She pulled away from him, and he let her go, but when she opened her eyes and looked at him, she felt an uprising of anger in her heart.

"How could you? How could you even consider it? I thought freedom _meant _something to you!" she said.

He recoiled, stung. "I…I had that coming," he said.

She pushed him. "You're damn right you had it coming! What were you playing at? Was it supposed to be some sort of joke?" Her eyes blazed at him, and begged of him, _Please, tell me it was supposed to be some sort of joke._

His own eyes remained solemn. "No joke. If you weren't here, I reckon I'd have signed that document. Wouldn't have even thought twice about it."

"Andraste's ass, _why? _Are you an elf-hater? You never struck me as an elf-hater."

"I'd have thought you'd figured out by now, I hate everybody pretty much equally. I wouldn't give a hundred sovereigns for most every man in Denerim."

"But to sell men, women - _children_ - into bloody slavery? I had thought that you, of all people, were better than that. I thought you actually stood for all those ideals a free Ferelden is _supposed_ to stand for and doesn't. I thought you were _different _from every other cold-hearted bastard of a human I'd ever met."

"I never tried to tell you I wasn't cold-hearted," he said.

She pushed him again. "Don't stand there and take it, you rat bastard. Defend yourself!"

"There is no defense. You've seen the real me, now. The question is, what do you intend to do about it?"

"Do?" She stared at him for a good long moment, a bit befuddled, before her features hardened again. She turned on her heel. "Follow me, _Your Lordship."_

He followed. She led him out of the castle and through the city streets back all the way to the lower marketplace, and this time it was he who was hard-pressed to keep up with her purposeful stride, despite her shorter legs. She led him to the gate that let into the alienage, which was closed and guarded.

"Get us in," she said to him, her voice a tight growl. He looked at the guards and nodded gravely.

"Open the gate, lads," he said.

"But Sire, there is plague - "

"Open the gate, I say."

They knew too well who addressed them. They opened the gate.

Loghaina ducked underneath the heavy portcullis before it was well off the ground, leaving Loghain to follow. She strode through the narrow strip of a community at high speed.

"There's little Amethyne," she said, and pointed to a small blonde-haired girl sitting beneath a heavy scaffold. She paused in her purposeful stride to give him a chance to see the child. "She's waiting for her mother to come home from Highever. She's been waiting a long time. Given what we know your friend Howe did at Highever, I think she'll just keep right on waiting forever, don't you?"

"Teyrn Cousland was in league with the Orlesians," Loghain began, but Loghaina cut him off.

"I don't give a damn about Teyrn Cousland. I'm talking about one innocent elven handmaid who went there with her employer and never returned. A casualty of war, you'd say, and now her child is an orphan. Look at her, Teyrn Loghain. See her well. These are the ones who suffer."

"I see her," he said, quietly.

"Do you?" Loghaina said, and then turned and continued walking. As she went, she continued to point out individuals and their homes. "There's the house of Gethon and Dilwyn, an old couple who were friends of my mother. I barely knew them, but on my wedding day they gave me fifteen silvers - a bloody fortune - just in honor of the memory of my mother. And that's Nessa's father. I gave his daughter ten of those silvers so she and her family could stay in Denerim rather than go to the work camp at Ostagar, where she probably would have been raped by soldiers."

She continued on, and pointed out every person she saw. Close to the great tree in the center of the community, she turned and confronted him.

"Do you see them, Your Lordship?" she demanded. "Do you see these people? People with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams…people you would have consigned to a living hell for a hundred sovereigns a head! You ask me what I'm going to do about 'the real you.' My answer is, what _can_ I do? I'm an elf, and just like these people I have no influence, no power. Our lives are in the hands of people like _you, _and that is all there is to it."

He grabbed her by the arms.

"Don't stand there and tell me you have no influence," he said. _"You're _the reason these people are free today, so don't tell me you have no power."

"So I have influence with you," she said, with a curled lip. "Why? Because we're fucking?"

"Because you're _strong," _he said. "And because you're crazy. And yes, because we're fucking, because if that doesn't give a woman influence over a man then nothing does. You pull me outside of myself, and I haven't met someone who could do that for a very long time. You have power. Hell, right now you're probably the most influential person in Ferelden. You want that power? _Use_ it."

It took a moment to realize what he was telling her. Use her influence? Use the fact that she was sleeping with the most powerful man in Ferelden? It had never even occurred to her to think she could. Maybe…she should? If she could change anything for her people, she needed to take the opportunity. Once they went their separate ways, she'd lose the chance forever.

He was staring into her eyes while she thought this through. When her face cleared, he leaned in to kiss her. He never got the chance. A small, red-headed ballista ball smacked into him from the side and knocked him off course.

"Get your filthy paws off my cousin!" Shianni said.

"Shianni - Shianni, it's okay," Loghaina said. "Shianni, this is Teyrn Loghain."

"Oh! Oh, Maker…why is it I seem to have a knack for pissing off the rich and powerful?"

"Don't worry about it," Loghain said. "You're just looking out for your kin."

Shianni looked back at Loghaina. "Andraste's ass, Cousin! We thought you were dead! We had a funeral and everything."

"I'm sorry, Shianni. I should have gotten word in to the alienage that I was all right. How is my father?"

"Well enough, considering he thinks his daughter is dead. Soris and Valera are living with him, now. After the raids, some of the people were angry, they blamed him for Teyrn Howe's actions."

"What did that bastard do?" Loghaina asked.

Shianni grimaced. "It wasn't good. They raided the _orphanage, _of all places. It was a slaughter."

Loghaina shot a glare at Loghain, who shrugged. "I did not know that the miscreant responsible for the death of the Arl's son was no longer present in the alienage."

"What does that have to do with a house full of orphaned _children?" _Loghaina demanded. "Did you think that they had something to do with it?"

"I was unaware of the exact nature of Howe's actions in the alienage."

"And you didn't bother to find out, either."

"It's his jurisdiction."

"Aren't you the Regent?"

"A fair point. But I had no inkling that Howe's actions were in any way untoward. The Crown does not interfere overmuch in the affairs of the Teyrns. Instead of playing the blame game, why don't we come up with a way of fixing the problem? If the man in command of the community is unfit, then perhaps someone else should be in charge of the jurisdiction. A bann. Of the alienage."

"What difference would a bann make? Just one more human who doesn't give a damn," Loghaina said.

"You misunderstand. The bann would be a resident of the community. An elf."

Both women stood and stared.

"You…you can _do_ that?" Loghaina said.

"I can suggest it to Her Majesty," he said. "It's not a military matter so I take no direct authority. But Anora would likely jump at the opportunity to do something for the alienage. And it takes away a degree of direct power from Howe, which given her feelings about the man is probably the icing on the cake."

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter didn't get nearly where I needed it to, but I had to end it. I just couldn't concentrate on it any longer.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dark Streets**

They spent several days in Denerim, all so Wynne could do what could be done for the sick alienage elves, who were suffering from what she said was a severe form of influenza. It was easily treated, but there were many elves and only one healer, so the elderly mage had her work cut out for her. There was little help the others could afford her, and little indeed that they could do at all, so the days dragged for them. Only Loghain and, by extension, Loghaina, had any work to do at all.

She spent the days alternately at the alienage and at the palace, listening to proposals for improving the lot of Ferelden's elves, at times from the lips of the Queen herself. Anora seemed fairly enthusiastic about the idea of turning the alienage into an independent bannorn. She even took as serious her father's suggestion that "that fiery red-headed cousin" of Loghaina's ought to be the Bann. Shianni, Loghain said, had guts, and if she was a bit reckless it was still a quality necessary in the first elven noble in Ferelden.

Loghaina had her own concerns about making Shianni bann, mostly regarding the possibility, or indeed likelihood, of assassination. But with royal favor on her side, and a home guard, even this risk seemed almost acceptable. Shianni's outspoken nature and elven pride could serve her people well, if she was given the chance. And it would give her a reason to put down the bottle.

Loghaina was thinking about picking it up. All of her stresses, it seemed, had magnified, not least of all because the six Orlesian Wardens frowned quite vigorously upon her "interference" in the political climate of the nation. She went out of her way to avoid the newest additions of the group while they remained in town, and did not even learn all their names right away. There was Riordan, who seemed to be the Seniormost of them, and a fellow named DePuecy or DuPlessy, and a very young woman named Yrena, but of the other three she had not the vaguest notion of their names, not even the one elf amongst their number. She put them off when they spoke of the Joining, too, not because she did not wish more Wardens but because one look at their three recruits had left her with the horrified certainty that they would all die, as Daveth had done. They looked vigorous enough, and in fact one of them was enormous, bigger even than Loghain and built somewhere along the lines of Sten, though he was clearly human, but still she was gripped with a terrible certainty that none of them were Grey Warden material. It was an irrational feeling and she knew it, but could not shake it.

Her nights were no more restful than her days. She spent them in Loghain's bed, at his estate, but for the time being he seemed uninterested in pursuing amorous activities, for which she was grateful. She was no longer angry with him, not exactly, but she had not yet forgiven him. She supposed she would, eventually. He had not, after all, done the thing she was upset over, though she felt within her rights to remain upset because he had so clearly considered it. She permitted him to lock her tightly within his embrace at night, because she was using that influence as he had suggested, but she was not ready for anything more. It seemed so bald, this usage. She had to consider the fact that she'd always been using him, but when it was for comfort, for connection, for surcease of loneliness, it had seemed far more innocent and uncomplicated than it did now, even with his collusion.

A part of her hated him. She had thought she understood him, up until the moment she'd learned how cheaply he rated lives, and now there was a rift where once there'd been a bridge. If anything, she hated him all the more for the loss of that much-needed connection, and it played its part in keeping her from the forgiveness of which she was half-afraid. The strange thing was, she thought that if she could get nothing out of him except sex and what little comfort that could offer, she thought she'd still be with him. There was something frightening in the concept of facing everything she had to deal with without him. Perhaps she was simply weak. The loneliness of command weighed too heavily upon her.

Or perhaps the truth of the matter was that, no matter how much that part of her hated him, another part, quieter but as potent, felt a strange sort of flutter when she thought about how he had torn up the contract. She did not know why he had done it, but it had seemed very much as though he had done it for her. Perhaps her presence there had successfully reminded him that the elves, while not human, were still _people_…or perhaps he looked at her and saw their true value. Perhaps he had done it because he cared about her. She did not know, and would not ask, but she wondered mightily. She didn't know exactly what those fluttery feelings spoke of in her.

He insisted upon long walks together in the evenings, after supper, alone together hand-in-hand. She went along, thinking that sooner or later on one of these rambles he would speak, and perhaps answer some of her questions, but he remained utterly silent always as they wound their way through the city streets. She did not break the silence herself. She could not think of what to say, where to begin. Perhaps it was the same for him, or perhaps he did not feel there was anything to talk about. She could not tell. She had stopped thinking she could read him.

They spent little time with the others, and Loghaina did not tell any of them what he had nearly done. Half of them required no further ammunition in their hatred of him, and she did not wish to know which among them would be outraged and which among them would not. If they noticed the change in her, and in her manner toward him, they gave no sign, though Wynne did ask if she felt ill. No doubt she thought she had contracted the same influenza gripping the alienage.

For three nights he held her in his bed, his arms so tight about her that she could not have escaped if she had wanted to, and a part of her did want to escape, a small, animal part that raced around inside of her on tiny clawed feet and scrabbled to get out. A feral part, that feared the trap. He'd held her like this all the way from Redcliffe, but it was different now. _She_ was different now. She could no longer take the same degree of comfort from his presence beside her. She lay next to him, curled up against his chest and tucked underneath his chin, and tried very hard to take the same degree of comfort, but she could not. Maybe it would be better once they were back on the road, with all the politics behind them. Maybe then she could start to forgive, maybe even to forget. Oh, how she wanted to forget.

The fourth day, Wynne treated the last case of influenza. It was by then too late in the evening to start out for Haven, so they resigned themselves to one more night in the city. The others perhaps saw this as no great hardship - well-cooked food and comfortable beds instead of campfire meals and the cold hard ground - but Loghaina wanted very much to be gone from this place. Apart from everything else, there was her father to think of. Any day he could figure out that his daughter was sleeping with a human, and from there it was always possible that he would find out what that human had nearly done. She wasn't ready to face either eventuality, though she knew it was cowardly of her to run from it. When she left there was no guarantee that the Queen would not immediately toss away all the work they'd done preparing to make Shianni bann of the alienage, but she couldn't even bring herself to worry much about that. At worst, the elves would be in exactly the same position they were now. It was not a pleasant position, but it was one of long accustom, and they would survive. Of greater worry to her was the idea that Teyrn Howe might draw up another contract with that slaver the moment Loghain's back was turned, but she did not think him courageous enough for that. He was a backstabber, and no question about it, but he would not risk his position for a hundred sovereigns a head.

She thought it likely that he would try to have her put out of the way. The man was incensed by her interference, without doubt, though he did his best to hide it behind an ingratiating smile. She had become wary of accepting food or drink while at the palace, because he seemed the kind of man who'd slip poison into a goblet without a second thought. He wanted to be the voice in Loghain's ear, the strongest voice and by preference the only. Loghain, blunt as a sledgehammer, didn't seem to fully grasp what a slippery snake he'd latched onto. She wished she could make him understand the man was poison, deadly poison that would end up poisoning _him, _but he seemed to think himself immune. Anora, she thought, knew. Anora did not like Howe, at all. Anora would be made very happy if her father were no longer under the influence of the man. Loghaina would be made very happy, too.

Her thoughts wandered in circles all during dinner that night, thinking about Howe, and slavers, and poison, and Loghain. She barely tasted her meal. When it was over and the servants removed the plates, she blinked in surprise as the others began to stand up. She had thought she had just sat down.

Loghain held out a hand to her. "Walk?" he asked, as he had asked every night before.

She put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"We're going to be doing an awful lot of walking, starting tomorrow morning," Alistair said, as they headed for the door. "Do you really think you need the exercise tonight?"

"You can never have too much exercise," Loghain said, an assertion she was not sure she agreed with. But she went with him anyway, through the house and to the darkening streets. He was unafraid of the city in the dark, and she could not say that she entirely agreed with that, either, but nothing ever seemed to happen. His presence seemed proof against the predators that prowled the shadows.

They wound their way through the twisting tracks of the city in silence, over one bridge, through quiet late-night neighborhoods, and back over another bridge further on. Sometimes the shadows moved, disclosing a cat or a mangy dog, or not disclosing anything at all, indicating the presence of a larger, more cunning creature, but these lurking presences made no attempt to accost them. Loghain was not wearing his famous armor, but his sword and shield were strapped to his back all the same.

But then the shadows _did_ break apart, and from them stepped a dozen armed men and women who moved immediately to surround them. A blond-haired elf at the fore of the crowd stepped forward.

"Loghain Mac Tir and Warden Commander Tabris, I presume?" he said, in a voice accented in a way Loghaina did not recognize. "The Antivan Crows send their regards."

* * *

**A/N: **I wish we could have gone one last time. To see the blackjack forests of the Black Hills, or the endless vista of the Grand Canyon. But it was not to be. It would have been nice, to see them one more time together, but it would not have been enough. It is a human failing; we always want more. Now I know you're standing there, smelling the pines and campfires in the rolling hills of South Dakota, where we spent so much time, or on the edge of the Grand Canyon at sunrise, when the colors are soft and misty and its hard to tell rock from sky. Because there are no limitations, now, no wheelchair, and most importantly, no pain. Rest in peace, Daddy. I'll miss you.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers: **May contain spoilers for _Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening_, and _Dragon Age II _as well as the novels _The Stolen Throne _and _The Calling_.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: Back Alley**

Loghaina moved instinctively to back Loghain. "This…could be bad," she said.

"I've dealt with these jackasses before. Just stay focused and protect your flank," Loghain said, in a harsh whisper.

"Do you get ambushed by assassins often?" she asked.

"Not so much these days. They've learned. Don't worry; if you were half as fierce as I know you to be you'd still be more than a match for these fools."

"Confident," the elven assassin said, with a slight chuckle. "I would call it bravado, perhaps even braggadocio, if I did not know your reputation. Crows who attempted to fulfill the old contract Emperor Florean put out on you…never came home. When the contract expired the Guildmasters all agreed that they would accept no more contracts on your head, but look what happens when enough money is involved to overcome squeamishness? And so, here we are. And I suppose now we will see whether or not once again you triumph over the Crows, or whether this is _our_ turn for victory. Are you ready? I would give you a fair shot."

"Twelve to two?" Loghain said, with a sneer in his voice.

"I would have brought fifty, to make the odds more even, but I could not find half so many willing to lay their lives on the line."

"Well, he's blowing a lot of smoke up your ass, isn't he?" Loghaina said.

"Be assured, my dear Warden Commander, I included you in my calculations. You have built quite a reputation for yourself in your own right."

"So this new contract is on the both of us?" Loghaina asked.

"Indeed. It seems the two of you have ruffled somebody's feathers more than somewhat. I regret that I am not at liberty to say who."

"You don't have to say. It was _Teyrn Howe."_

"Nonsense," Loghain said.

"I regret to inform you that the lady is correct," the assassin said. "I was not at liberty to say, but if you guess for yourselves, that is not my fault, is it?"

"Affable young fellow, isn't he? It's a shame he's here to kill us," Loghaina said.

"Why would Rendon Howe put a contract out on me?" Loghain asked.

"For what reason does any man spend a great deal of money to end the life of another? You threaten his power in some way, yes? For specifics, you may wish to ask him yourself. Assuming you survive."

"I'll rip his head off and stuff it up his arse," Loghain said, in a conversational, matter-of-fact tone.

The assassin laughed. "For the risk he has taken in making an enemy of such as you, I should think he already had his head up his ass. But my men grow impatient. If it is all very well with you, we will commence the killing now."

"By all means," Loghain said. He raised his sword and readied his shield. Loghaina gulped and adjusted her grip on her daggers.

If the assassin had brought archers, they would have died. If their blades had been poisoned, as one might reasonably expect them to be, they would have died. But neither of those things was true, and in the narrow alleyway there was little room for a dozen attackers to close in at once. It was a hard battle, but with swift slashes and good shield work, they held their own. Loghaina dropped her last attacker to the ground and took the opportunity to wipe at the blood that ran from a deep cut on her cheek. Loghain's shield knocked down the last opponent and he finished him with his sword in the back of the neck.

He put up his weapons. "You all right?" he asked.

"Still breathing," she said. "What about…them?"

"This one's still alive," he said, and pulled up the elven assassin's head by the hair. "Knocked him out with a pommel strike."

"Good. I kind of like him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? He did just do his level best to kill us."

"But he was very mannerly about it. You got any questions you want to ask him when he wakes up?"

"I think I know everything I need to, assuming he was telling the truth."

"I want to recruit him into the Wardens."

"Are you serious? Do you realize how dangerous that could be? That contract was on your head, too."

"Well, I'm assuming we're going to take care of the person who put the contract out on us. In any event, I think having a trained assassin on hand could be useful, don't you?"

"Oh, they're dead useful. Until they turn on you, that is."

"I'm not scared. We kicked his ass once, we can do it again."

"We kicked his ass because he was courteous. When he sticks a knife in your throat in the middle of the night he's not going to warn you first."

"I'll risk it. I want him on my team."

"Have I ever told you that you're crazy?"

"You might have mentioned it."

Loghain chuckled. "Have it your way, then. He's coming around."

The assassin groaned and opened his eyes. "I'm alive? I'm alive!"

"We can fix that for you," Loghain said. He dropped the man's head with a parting shove.

"I'd rather you didn't, if it's all the same."

"All right; you want to live? Come and work for me. Become a Grey Warden," Loghaina said.

"If my choices are between that and death, I will accept your deal," the assassin said. "My life is suddenly far more precious to me than it was at the outset of this escapade."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"May I sit up?" He pushed himself up off the ground. "My name is Zevran Arainai, and I am at your service."

"Glad to have you, Zevran," Loghaina said.

"Just know this," Loghain said. "If you turn on her, I will ensure that you fully explore hitherto undreamt of realms of pain."

"I believe you," Zevran said. "I will endeavor not to incur your wrath."

Loghain looked up at Loghaina. "Speaking of wrath, I'm feeling quite a bit of it right now. You and I have an appointment with a certain Teyrn, don't we? I'd hate to keep His Lordship waiting."

"Are you really going to kill him?" Loghaina asked.

"What do _you_ think? Actually I'm going to endeavor to arrest him, on charges of sedition, but I'm counting on the fact that a cornered rat will turn and fight."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then his head will roll to a royal axe. Either way, he's signed his death warrant."

"Just wanted to be sure. You did claim you needed him."

He had the grace to blush. "I can hire someone to explain politics to me," he said, in a grumble.


End file.
